I looked in the mirror and the monkey was me.

As a writer I tend to look at the world sideways. I consider myself an observer, a cataloguer, a voyeur at times. Things happen and I think to myself, "whoa...what if this happened instead?"

I pay attention.
Okay...I nod off sometimes, but no one is perfect.  When I sleep, I dream. And when I dream I plumb the depths of my subconscious and gill net some odd stuff. My dream scape is rife with fiction fodder.
Sometimes it's scary, sometimes it's beautiful. When I'm lucky it's scary beautiful.
I write from the heart. I also write from a laptop. Cackle™ I've studied and honed my craft, absorbed every bit of writing advice parceled out by the great minds.
I worship at the altar of grammar and sentence structure. I try and paint pictures with words -- show, don't tell.
But in my head it's Yoda's voice : There is no tell...there is only show.

And some Mr. T just because he's filled with Awesome.

 Back to the point.
I read. I devour books like Jaffa cakes.
If you don't know the miracle that is a Jaffa Cake, then I mourn for you! It is heaven in a chocolate-covered sponge cake/biscuit(cookie) filled with jellied orange.

Heaven! Pure, treacle HEAVEN.

But I digress. Again. Sigh.



I read everything.  I celebrate other authors and their success, delight in the printed (or electronic) word.

I submit my own manuscripts for consideration, and learn from the rejection letters.
It's humbling, daunting, but no one said this path would be easy.
Some rejections are actually better than an acceptance. Yes, I just said that.

Some rejections are because the piece isn't right for that particular magazine issue. But it's the acknowledgement that makes it divine.

But I'm suffering today.
Being a writer is difficult. The waiting game takes its toll, its pound of flesh. I have chinks in my armor. I'm not the Death Star with that fatal design flaw, but I do have a weak spot.

It's bad writers who make it. As I said, I'm not perfect.
It's frustrating to read the published work of someone who has no concept of grammar or plot. Before you jump in and remind me of James Joyce, I admit there are exceptions. His grammar was divine inspiration.
I'm talking about BAD WRITERS.  Jayzuss, who drank the kool aid and published that shite? I won't name the authors or their books, that's just bad form, however I can rant about it. 
Everyone's opinion is different, and I'm probably just a bitchy simian today, but it chaps my butt when I read something that is soooo bad and yet has acclaim. Even minor acclaim. But as I said, everyone's opinion is different. Maybe I just think it's bad.  Maybe it's good?
It creates that crisis of confidence. Goes right into that crack in my armor...wiggles it's way in like the bug in Chekov's ear :

Damn! That's nasty.

In the end I should just let their bad writing push me to be better.  Strive for perfection; keep honing my craft.  Dream a little dream (filled with inspiration and oddness).

Cheers.