Those poor, delicate souls…again

The last time I used this title for a blog post, it was to tell you how badly writers need your feedback in order to keep going. This is still valid, because what do writers do when they don’t keep going? Right, they quit.

Quit.

As in don’t write books anymore.

Now, imagine you’ve found a writer whose style appeals to you, whose characters you love, whose stories you find exciting, and you want to read on and search the bookstore for the next part of the series, only to find…the bugger’s quit. Happens all the time.

Over the past months, every so often, sometimes up to every day, I’ve come across some writer who told me, that was it, the last straw, enough with the stress and strife, it’s not worth it, my writing sucks, I’m only an amateur and that’s all I ever will be, no one will ever buy the crap I write, I can’t take another rejection letter, I need to stop now before I make an even bigger fool of myself.

Whenever I hear these arguments, I double over. Punch to the stomach. Ouch. Because, you know, the problem with writers is, even if every fiber of their being cries I QUIT at the top of their tiny fiber voices, deep down they can’t. Once you’ve started, it’s in the blood. You can’t stop writing any more than you can stop eating or breathing or sleeping. The stories don’t care that you’ve quit. They still appear, and want to be written, and haunt you until you comply.

In that case, you might think, you’re safe, ’cause even if the bugger’s quit, he’ll be back tomorrow and write on. Chances are, you’re right about that. So now you’re probably wondering what I am aiming at…

No matter how many times he quits and comes back, your average writer will still face the issues mentioned above. The insecurity is always there. Am I, can I ever be, good enough to warrant people spending their hard-earned money on the lies I tell? What your writer needs is someone to tell him, yes, you are, and on a regular basis.

I stumbled upon this picture a few days or so ago, and ever since keep sending it out whenever another of my writer friends breaks down. It all boils down to someone who believes in you, even if it’s just a tiny potato.

(Image filched from Ashley Martin, who in turn stole it from Becca Rose, and I hope neither of them minds much that I use it the way I do.)