Saturday, February 11, 2012
This is scary as hell.
It's like telling the world to take your talent, ego, and hopes of success and tie them up in a big knot and stomp on them. Fold, spindle, mutilate. And this is only a novela. Something small and cute. Not the giant wordy thrillers I've been trying to pare down. I'm putting this up as a test. Can I really do this? Be the writer I see in my heart? Actually sell a book?
>insert deep heartfelt sigh here<
In the mean time I'm working on another book. A more serious book far away from the genre of the first. (that worries me--that my writing spans several genres and how am I ever going to develop a following?)
And I'm making T-shirt designs. Crazy Painter T's
It's what I do when I'm not writing or painting because sitting still isn't an option. If I sit still I think about these the scary prospect of strangers reading and critiquing my work. I know you can't please everyone. I'm really not interested in trying. But still...
How do you guys shove your work out there and still stay sane? Does it get easier with the next book? Does the anxiety ever go away?