I am way down here in the deep, dark NaNo caves, and I'm struggling to find my out, to find my way through. I'm searching for a rope so I can haul my word count to higher ground. I'm looking for a light to show my plot the way forward. I'm digging for hunks of confidence, buried like precious metals.
The other day, I was reading blogs (instead of working on NaNo!) when I came across these lines:
". . . I absolutely read what I wrote the day
or hour before and believe that it is
this horrible, unpublishable dreck.
I'm usually typing away at something
and shaking my head at the same time,
because I think it sucks.
It's true. I've got eight published novels . . .
and guys - it just doesn't matter.
Whatever I'm creating right now
is going to be the book that reveals me
as a fraud and a hack.
I have no confidence when I'm creating,
so if you're in the same place - congratulations.
You're a writer."
Maybe I'm not as alone down here as I thought . . . .