I'm up and down like the proverbial whore's drawers these days...
After a good few weeks of solid Pollyanna-dom (or Anne-of-Green-Gables-dom, whichever it was that was always 'glad'), here I am with, as a friend of mine used to say, 'a face like a slapped arse'. I've been pootling around under my own little raincloud. (Mixed metaphors? What do you mean - mixed metaphors?)
What fragile creatures we writers are. If I may be so bold as to describe myself thus, which today is touch and go. The Director said No. This has made me unreasonably depressed. I'm not too worried because I'll almost certainly snap out of it before Friday. Anyway, I haven't let him get completely away, but have already suggested that he read something else of mine. We'll see. If you don't ask, you don't get.
I'll try and work up some enthusiasm to rant about something tomorrow. It's been ages since I had a good rant. Maybe that's the problem. I'm spending too much time writing and not enough venting my existential angst with the world and its status quo.
On page 30 of the first draft of At the Front though, which is good.
1 comment:
I can understand your being down, Frances, but ups and downs are transitory - talent is what lasts, and you clearly have a great talent. The opinions of others can affect you just so much when you hold on to your talent as consolation. Don't ever lose the ability to recognize the boundary between Art and Marketing. Setbacks in the latter say absolutely nothing about your success in the former.
Sincerely,
a great admirer of your talent!
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