I was in the middle of my second novel re-write when I got a critique back from a writing contest I had entered. The critique was bad. I was missing an “inciting incident” (which I had to look up. It’s the central conflict of the story and the moment the main character is forced to act and we learn what he or she wants the most). The plot and dialogue were shakey to put it nicely. But my novel “has a ton of potential” and “could be interesting”.
So I immediately stopped work on it and thought what else I could do with my life instead. Read my books instead of kids books. Teach (didn’t get that job either). Or piddle-paddle around through life. I was depressed about it to say the least and ready to quit altogether.
Finally, I realized while swimming the other day that God keeps closing doors He doesn’t want me to go down, but this writing door remains open.
While searching the Internet aimlessly (something I’m wont to do when I’m feeling down in the dumps), I read articles on writing. One article said that a writer is someone who can’t quit writing. Someone who feels compelled to write no matter the amount of rejection or the lack of success. Someone who can’t do anything else but write.
That’s how I feel. Something inside of me is still pushing me to write even though I don’t want to. I can’t kill it. It’s a desire that’s there and won’t go away.
So I guess I’ll keep writing (not that I have a choice about it). And maybe some day this novel that will enter its third (and God-willing final) re-write will go somewhere. That’s my prayer at least. While the door is still open…