Thursday, June 11, 2015

Lessons about myself

Right now, I'm basically stuck at home. I quit my previous job, thinking that I could just jump right into the swing of things with a new one that was already in the bag; papers signed, i.d.'s copied, the works. Come to find out that I still have to wait another week or three for a background check to work its way through the bowels of bureaucracy.
The practical upshot is that I have almost no money to spend on anything: fuel, food, purchased/rented entertainment... nothing. I've got supplies to last me a little while yet, so I'm not going to starve (thanks for asking).
But it's also been an interesting eye-opener.
I'm a writer. Which is to say, I want to make my living at spinning tales that other people will buy. I've got the raw "craft" part down cold, with grammar, punctuation, spelling, and so on. I've even advanced to the next level, where I can not only talk about "characterization", "pacing" and other scholastic writerly-things, but can actually demonstrate them in my own work.
All I need to do is have faith in my own ideas.
I've produced a lot of stuff that I've layered around the seed of ideas I get from someone else. There's no particular problem with collaborating on big projects, though I often take ego-hits from others as well as my inner heckler that they only give out Nobel Prizes for Literature to individuals.
Which might not even be true, and certainly isn't true for other prizes; Phil and Kaja Foglio have been jointly awarded Hugos, after all.
It's just the adversarial relationship I have with myself. "Who are you to even try? That's a stupid idea, you can't create an internally-consistent character or a society based on that" are pretty common jibes.
Wish I could come up with a better strategy for dealing with that.
Failing that, I wish I could find a way to earn a massive amount of money, so I could afford the kind of therapy necessary to help me deal with it.

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