On those American Idol tryouts you see those people who believe they can sing. They sing their best with all their dreams flung about for the world to see and then are told how awful they are. And they are awful. Perhaps you’ve laughed at their self-delusion. Perhaps you’ve cringed.
Actually, I’ve never watched the show, but I’ve seen enough clips over the years to get the idea.
Then I wonder if I’m the writerly version of those deluded contestants.
Rejection from agents and literary magazines doesn’t mean you can’t write–no more than a lover deciding not to marry you means you can’t find the right partner later. Maybe you just have to start asking the right people out. Or go into therapy. Or realize you really would make a terrible life partner.
Hey, life partnership isn’t for everyone. Why does it need to be?
There are the numbers. Pesky things. Number of books out there. Number of readers. Everyone can’t be a bestseller.
Hey, bestsellerdom isn’t for everyone.
If you’re willing to keep going in spite of the rejections and the critics, stop making fun of other deluded people. Just a thought.
So. Speaking of deluded people. I’m famous in a parallel universe. See for yourself. Click on the Time Vortex.