//Disclaimer: today sucks and I’m not sure about anything anymore.
It’s a weird month so far. Meet Me Halfway’s with CPs, I started a newsletter again since, what is it, years? And now for the second time have lost my confidence as a writer. I keep wondering if maybe my book’s just trash. That it’s too much, and at the same time not enough. That it needs so much more work that it might just be better to scrap the whole thing. Drop the whole series because while ace fantasy romances are wanted, maybe just not like this. Plus there’s more of us out there who write this. I’m nothing special. I have nothing new to offer.
This is the second time I feel like this, this month. This might be temporary, but what if my instincts are right? Last time I considered quitting writing altogether, but I couldn’t. Maybe just writing and never sharing anything anymore is the way to go. Maybe no one needs to see it and I’ll just only write it for myself, like I do with the rare instances I write poetry.
Earlier this month I couldn’t stop thinking about this book and couldn’t stop imagining new and improved scenes. Additions as bonus chapters for the newsletter and plotpoints for the sequel. I needed to let it rest while it was with CPs. Needed to stop working on it. I’d not expected it to happen this way.
I’d intended to write some short stories to distract myself. Shorts that I’d bundle for a promotion collection, but before I could even start drafting this horrible sense of being a worthless writer hit me. Eventually it lessened and I actually worked on those shorts. One had grown into a novella and can easily be expanded in its own series. The others keep begging for attention, multiple options that I now wonder if I should just scrap. Even if the concepts sound appealing, it’s all about the execution.
Maybe it’s a sign. I don’t know.