Every now and then I get to a point where I’m convinced I’ve reached the end of my writing career, that I’m ready to put the whole thing down.
This is one of those times.
I just don’t feel as much like a writer when I’m writing short stories. I’m not as focused (obsessed?), I have to come up with many, many more ideas rapidly (which I don’t know if I’m good at), and I don’t have the attachment to my characters.
Years ago, you wouldn’t have caught me writing a novel, and I never imagined I’d prefer novels to short stories.
Yet now is the time for short stories and sending them off to magazines and waiting. I’ve gotten a lot of rejections, but I keep trying.
I feel like quitting sometimes. I’ve felt like quitting many times before.
This too shall pass.
Words Like Me 