I have lost many illusions about writing, some of which are embarassing to admit, although I will admit them anyway.
- I thought people would be impressed with me for being a writer.
- I thought it would be easy to get published because I'm a good writer and because I'd been writing to refereed journals for years with little difficulty.
- I thought my first draft was my final draft because I make very few grammatical and spelling errors.
- I thought my talent would shine through mediocre query materials.
- I thought writing a blog would get me lots of followers.
- I thought I wasn't a real writer because I hadn't gotten published.
- I thought my writing must be bad because agents didn't bite.
- I thought I should quit writing because I hadn't been published.
- I thought the accomplishment was in publishing, not writing.
- I thought writing would change my life.
I dreamed of book release parties (I still do), meetings with agents, having my picture on the back of a book cover, book signings, ex-boyfriends having to choke on seeing my name on a book cover (I have always dated nerds.) These, especially the ex-boyfriend part, are also illusion for now. I may or may never get to see the reality.
These were the illusions I have shed over the past several years. Except the last one, because I think writing must have changed my life, but not in big momentous ways.
Where to from here?
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