Worth It?

A dear, dear friend is in tears and I am, as I stated in my previous post, as blocked as a monkey's ass for ideas or even the energy. Writing is a solitary business friends. But when one has others also unified in this enterprise, you can feel their pain when something goes wrong.

How hard is it to make sure writers are protected, that what they've created is protected? Galleys exist for a reason--and no matter HOW new a writer is, they deserve to see what their creation will look like by the time it reaches print--especially if it will be marketed in a mass publication. We're told to be professionals, and yet the same courtesy is not afforded us. Yes, it bites the big wazoo folks. It's why my friend is in tears and why I am also.

Which leads me to my original question, the subject of this thought bubble. Is it worth it?

Fuck yeah. When I read a story by someone that transports me, or finish something I'm proud of, it's worth it. Words are something more than marks on paper or your screen. Words have power. The power to make me laugh or cry, the power to take me to crazy worlds and allow me to meet curious creatures and horrors. Words let me BELIEVE. And I know this: If I allow my failure to kill that joy, or if my friend never writes again, then the pain will linger like a phantom.

Persevere my friend and I will also. One day, this too shall pass--a cliche, but one that fits. Don't sheath your power because of disappointment but rather use it to cut through the bullshit that life throws at you. My own words remain at the ready, buried somewhere on a slush pile and also in my head. THEY will carry on.