Are we drawn to the unreal?

I was having a discussion the other day on the ever popular topic of writer suicide.  An exorbitant percentage of writers commit suicide.  An exorbitant amount suffer from mental illness and the like.  Is it because this type of personality is drawn to an world that is “unreal” or is it because living in such a world can drive you to extremes?  Discuss amongst yourselves.  I’m done with it for a while.

But I have to say that writing has its ups and downs.  For one thing, it’s time consuming.  It’s difficult to write and multitask at the same time.  If you’re doing some really good writing, you kind of go into this trance-like state, and it is genuinely painful to step out of it.  Might as well snap off your leg, you know?  But it’s such a pleasure, too.  You create people that start to feel real to you.  They’re the kind of people that you would be best friends with (or not!) in real life, if you met them.  Then you kill them, or their loved ones, or expose their secrets that they have worked so hard to keep shrouded.  It’s tough, sometimes.  You want them to be real so that the scene and story feel realistic, but you also have to keep your feet on *actual* reality.  It becomes a tougher line to walk than non-writers think.

On a whole different front, I only have 32 pieces out right now, because rejection rejection rejection!  Forms for the most part, and that’s perfectly okay.  I do understand and value the time of other people.  I can shrug them off fairly easily, except when they all seem to hit at the same time, and then I get discouraged.  My sweet husband says, “But look at your success!” while I’m saying, “But look at these EIGHT rejections here!”

*Mercedes points

However, I just wrote two very satisfying chapters in RunStarGirl.  I hit enter, ran spell check, reread them and thought, “Yeeeees.”  It makes me feel jaunty.  It makes me feel fat and sassy, and everything fits, and the puzzle is putting itself together nicely, and it’s like wrapping a warm blanket around myself and settling in for the evening. This is why I do it.  This is what it’s all about, right here.

 

Pieces out: 32

Goal: Lettin’ that goal slide for a bit.  I’m learning to be kind.

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