Okay, I'm posting again. Has it really been more than a week? Well, I'm not as miserable today as I was last time I posted. I'm just exhausted. I was up too late last night reading. I'm currently reading The Fifth Sacred Thing by Starhawk. It took me a while to get into it. I've noticed she tells much more than she shows. Now nearing the end though I'm into the story and want to find out what happens. Although, I am having a hard time extending my belief with her futuristic California and her utopian city. I just don't buy some of it. Where's the rest of the United States? Okay, reading something that has a decent idea behind it, but not the best writing makes me feel a little better. Only a little though because the reason she got her fiction book published is because she had non-fiction published first. She had a "name" for herself already. Sigh.

I'm utterly pissed that I submitted a story to Critters to be critiqued and of course it ends up at the top of the list of the week after I need it crittered by - the deadline for the story I'm going to submit to an anthology is September 1, and the critiques on Critters are due August 27 (I wanted the August 20 date at least). I can't revise something in 3 or 4 days! I have to let the comments sit for at least a week before a tamper with my story. This sucks. Such is life. I think I really need to concentrate on trying to see the glass half full more often...

I just finished reading White As Snow by Tanith Lee. And it made me miserable. Not in the sense that it was a bad book, it was an excellent book. It had me in tears at the end - her style of dark fantasy has always pulled at me, and it's just so wonderful. That wonderfullness (I know this is not a word) is what makes me so miserable. I'm a horrible writer, will never amount to anything, will never write something as gorgeous as she does. I want people to feel for my characters like I feel for hers, but right now after reading something so good, I feel so worthless and pointless - just not good enough. Ah, I said I would be pessimistic on this blog, but this is quite a bit much of feeling sorry for myself...I wish I had some optimism, I wish there just would be something that would show that my writing isn't total crap, something I can believe.

First Things First

Okay, I figured I'd give this a try. See, I have this problem with not keeping things updated (like my webpage) and not writing things down when they're on my mind. So, I'm going to try this and see if I can depend on myself enough to add to the blog at least once a week. Goddess knows I'll make excuses and they'll be bad excuses. I guess right now I will state, I'm a very insecure writer (and I know I'm not alone in this) and I always think another writer's writing is better than mine. Therefore, pessimism will abound on this blog. And if you don't want to hear me feeling sorry for myself, don't read my posts (like anyone will read these posts anyway, no one ever goes to my webpage, why would anyone read anything I have to say - there's that pessimism I spoke of).

Okay, okay. Enough complaining for now. Last night I finished the rough draft of a short story entitled "Prince, Upon a Black Horse." I was euphoric with the thrill of finishing a story - I don't think I'm the only writer that gets that way, at least I hope not. It's such a rush to complete something, even if you know it will undergo many a revision. That's all for now . . . maybe I should work on updating my pathetic website now . . .