A Bitter Pill

I have deliberately ignored my blog since March. Let’s just say I had a little bit of a wobble in the confidence department on about the twelfth of the month. I vowed I would get myself back on track and work really, really hard  before coming back to the blog. Then, when I deemed  I had done so I would publish the blog post I had written that day, safe in the knowledge that I had done my best.  My thanks to Tracey Tyrrell, Debi Alper and everyone on the March 2013 Writer’s Workshop Self-Editing Course.
And here we are!

(Written on twelfth March 2013)
I have learned something today.
(this is me being positive by the way)
A month ago I commissioned a thorough editorial editorial critique for my first novel ‘Hard Hat and Heels.’*
The report appeared in my inbox earlier. The opening line was positive and I settled down into my chair with a warm smile on my face.The smile wasn’t there for long.
Fast forward half an hour and I was sobbing openly into the dog’s fur, a pile of used tissues at my side and my mascara somewhere at chin level.
This self-indulgent, excessively emotional behaviour was curtailed, much to the dogs relief, when I heard the high pitched sound of the dustbin lorry reversing towards the house. I dragged the two bins to the bottom of the drive into the waiting arms of the bin man. I gave him a look which clearly said ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ and ran back into the house. To give him his due, his face didn’t even register shock. Perhaps I always look this bad.
I tried to return to my crying session on the dog, but she wouldn’t have me. I sat back down in front of my laptop instead and re-read the twenty-seven page report.
I had heard all the advice from other writers and blogs and seminars. I knew you had to be thick skinned and it wasn’t easy etc etc. But when it actually happens, it’s a bitter pill to swallow.
And this is when I learned something about myself:
No matter how hard it is, how crushing it is to hear criticism, I still want to write.
I am an aspiring author. Publication date may be some way off, but it’s there.
As a good friend and fellow aspiring author told me in my hour of despair:
‘Writing is a journey and I’m on the journey.’

By Cathy Bramley

Cathy is the author of the best-selling romantic comedies Ivy Lane, Appleby farm, The Lemon Tree Cafe and A Vintage Summer. She lives in a Nottinghamshire village with her family and Pearl, the Cockerpoo. Her recent career as a full-time writer of light-hearted romantic fiction has come as somewhat of a lovely surprise after spending eighteen years running her own marketing agency. However, she has always been an avid reader, hiding her book under the duvet and reading by torchlight. Now she thinks she may have found her dream job.

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