Maybe Nietzsche was right and the worst kind of torture is hope because it prologues the torment. But most likely not. If I had no hope, then I’d have no dream. Dreams need you to hope to achieve them to even begin to exist and grow within you, and so without hope you have no dreams, no aspirations, no real pulse of life. I cling to my hope, but in a more pragmatic way: I hope I won’t have to wait 10 years to get there. I might not muster enough passion to struggle for a way there for that long…who knows, really? I feel now, when things aren’t looking bleak but not extremely promising either, I feel now that I will fight to get there, to become what I feel in my heart I am. To take up that space designed for me, or for which I was designed, so everyone else in the world will be able to occupy the spaces meant for them.
Home › confessions of a wanna-be author › And just when you thought there was a silver lining, darkness falls. Sort of.
And just when you thought there was a silver lining, darkness falls. Sort of.
Posted on by Livia/Liv Olteano
I’ve been there, in the no dreams and no hope end of the spectrum – for years. I was focused on all I had to do and ignored everything I wanted to do; sadly in this kind of thing I can’t do both. I’m not one of those amazing people who can do both, you know, function in one area and dream of another. I’m either functioning here and not dreaming of anything else, or dreaming and only functioning to reach that goal. I did the functioning without a dream thing and I was miserable, truly, deeply, irrevocably miserable. If I have to do it again, I will, but I’ll be damned if I won’t do all that I can possibly imagine to avoid that.
Hey, it’s 4 AM, if I won’t be philosophical now, I’ll never be. 😀 Why, you’ll ask, am I being so philosophical? Because after the revise & resubmit, the PNR didn’t find a home. Yet. I’m reasonably hopeful it might find a place with some other homes, I have a couple in mind as we speak. Beyond those couple more possible homes, right now, I can’t say I have a plan. But if I’ll have to come up with one, I will, most likely.
I could have taken the news badly, get all gloomy and hopeless, certainly frustrated. But I didn’t. I’m seeing and learning the value of patience, perhaps the greatest lesson I could learn in life. I can’t say I’m a patient person by nature, I’m the kind who wants to start doing something and finish doing it quickly and with great results. Efficiency, I’m all about that – it implies best results in quick bursts of action in my understanding. Waiting for months, or a month really, doesn’t strike me as quick while I wait. If I were to do the work in the meantime, analyse potential manuscripts and invest myself in discovering each one, maybe a month or 10 of them would seem efficient. In all fairness, I understand the waiting period that submitting manuscripts implies. I don’t have to like it from my end, as the wannabe-author, but I do understand it. And seen as though I read a lot, I also know that choosing something to invest in isn’t easy – there’s SO much potential out there. You have to believe in it, to feel not just some potential in it but a lot, to believe this could be a hit.
I still got some full requests, so signs are still good. Not as good as offers, but one must appreciate what one has, right? Appreciate and hope, fight for more. In the end, I have to believe it will find its home, all I have to do is to keep trying to find it until we reach destination.
In the meantime, I can say for a couple of weeks I lost my steam with the YA project. It’s that dangerous spot for me, when the story is wrapping up, when I’m doing the most intense part of the story and preparing to solve it for the end. Maybe it’s separation anxiety, I know after this particular chapter comes the last one or the last two, that this story will end for now, for this book. I think I may have a hard time with reaching that point, especially since now it implies going through this whole struggle to find a home for it. Meh.
Nobody said it was easy, or remotely within reach, I know my chances. Perhaps that helps to keep my calm. I know my chances, I hope for the best but realize the reasonable of less then stellar outcomes.
And so I keep writing and trying, for better or for worse. And hope it won’t be more for the worse then the better.