So... This little thing called PitchWars happened. It's what triggered this particular post, but it's not what this post is about so I'll cover it very briefly.
It's a contest where writers submit their first ~250 words and a Query to the four mentors of their choice and hope to get selected. In short (because I'm rubbish at being brief) I was selected by the Awefantabulous Renee Ahdieh.
Renee is exactly what I want and more importantly need in a mentor. Her feedback has helped me add layers of depth to CROW'S BLOOD that I knew were missing, I just couldn't see where. I've learned some of my pet phrases, identified some comma issues I have, and so much more, and I've exterminated them with prejudice.
Seven weeks later, our part in PitchWars wrapped on January 22nd as it went to the Agent Round. The first 250 words were posted with a 35 word pitch (here in case you're interested), in hopes of Agents commenting and making requests.
It's those requests that bring me to the point of this post. I had 0 requests. Zip. Zilch. Nada.
Let me tell you a bit about how this little writer's ego works: I'm a brash, cocky, confident bastard. Except when I'm not, which is often. The key is that I try not to let that side show to the world at large too much. The only person who sees that side of me most often (my wife) does a great job of propping me up so I can continue being the confident bastard that I am.
I'd be lying if I said getting zero requests didn't sting. It cut pretty deep. Those are my words! Right there, with that zero looking me in the eye, I could have quit. Packed it all in and reclaimed my TV and video games. I could have given up the dream and driven my wonderful wife insane.
I could have listened to the mean voice in the back of my head that kept whispering "Zero, that's how many people give a damn about your words. That's what they're worth. That's what your worth. Give it up. Go home. Loser!"
I've heard that voice before. That's the voice that comes around any time I put myself out there, whether I'm public speaking, writing, tweeting, or posting on my blog. I don't like that voice. I made the decision long ago not to listen to that voice. That voice is an asshole. The things it says aren't true and are designed to cut us where it hurts the most. That voice is borne of fear.
We all have that voice. The difference between those who go on and those who fold isn't a matter of skill, or worth, or ego. It's a matter of will.
So here's what I have to say, not only to those who didn't get requests in PitchWars, but to those who have ever queried, or submitted, or done anything that brought around that voice:
Don't. Ever. Stop.
Do what you love, whether it's writing, drawing, dancing, singing, building life-size models of X-Wings out of Lego, whatever it is, as long as you love it (and it doesn't hurt anything).
As for PitchWars... Would I do it again? In a heartbeat! I've learned so much, and met so many wonderful, dedicated, and helpful people.
Until next time, I'm going to go write and revise, because that's what I do, and I love doing it.
"I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me." - The Bene Gesserit