Susan, I'm not sure what you mean by "worthy" here, either. The point is to be published, yes? To make a living (or something like it) writing books that others will read? If that happens right off the bat, or after some rewrites, revisions, and refocusing, isn't the point still that you're working?

Also, I think a hard lesson to learn, for example, is that a natural facility with language does not necessarily mean you have a natural facility for the story itself. I don't -- I can play with words and imitate styles and create different voices and tones the live-long day, but I always have a problem with plot. It takes me a while to figure out what story I want to tell, and how best to do it -- if I let it flow completely naturally from brain to keyboard, it would meander and stop and stare at shiny things, and spin around and clap its hands a few times, and only then hopefully get to the point.

By the same token, I know there are writers who have a clear idea of story but struggle with crafting the words or images to tell it.

Point here being, it almost always takes some kind of work for ninety-eight percent of the writers out there. I think it's admirable (and sometimes motivating) to set your goals high, for your writing itself and its success, but maybe not to set your expectations that high.

Point here being, it almost always takes some kind of work for ninety-eight percent of the writers out there. I think it's admirable (and sometimes motivating) to set your goals high, for your writing itself and its success, but maybe not to set your expectations that high.

No. It takes some kind of work for 100% of the writers out there, and any writer who says differently is lying.

I have no trouble with story, or characters, or voice. But I have six books published, and there has only been one that didn't leave me glaring at the computer at least ten times during the writing of it, muttering under my breath, reaching for a research resource, realising that there were holes in my take on a given thing, and that meant research, more research, smoothing it out, translating it into the story.

I'm very uncomfortable with the idea of competing with oneself, which is how "worthy" in that context comes across. But then, I don't like competition and I don't really see it helping my work, so I avoid it, no matter who it may be with. Your personal style may definitely vary.

I guess what I mean by worthy is that I don't just want to be published, I want to be a great writer. To keep with the sports analogy, I don't want to make league minimum. I want to be Ichiro. But my problem is I was expecting to be Ichiro already, and without having done a tenth the amount of work at my craft he has at his.

if I let it flow completely naturally from brain to keyboard, it would meander and stop and stare at shiny things, and spin around and clap its hands a few times, and only then hopefully get to the point.

Actually, this is me. And I have trouble putting in enough conflict--if I follow my instincts, my stories come out kind of like the meandering, episodic 19th and early 20th century girls' books I love so much, where everyone gets along except for minor tiffs resolved within a chapter. Oh, and my visual imagination is seriously lacking, though my writers group says I'm getting much better and they can actually picture my scenes now.

t Rubs head.

Ow.

Didn't someone say (paraphrasing here) writing is 2% inspiration, 98% perspiration? Probably one of the reasons I've never seriously considered being a writer, I hate to perspire. Susan, more power to you that you're willing to put in the effort.

It takes some kind of work for 100% of the writers out there

You're right there, although you know there are writers who do lie about how easy it comes for them. I mean, writing itself is work, no matter how smoothly or quickly it flows. I guess I meant there are maybe two percent of writers who don't have to work *too* much harder than translating from brain to paper.

I'm the stare-at-the-computer, swear-a-lot, sulk, research, glare-at-the-ceiling sort when something isn't working for me.

(Apparently, my epiphany was yet another thing that sounded better in my head, when it had me weeping in the shower because there was still hope for me and there was no reason to give up and quit writing.)

I guess what I mean by worthy is that I don't just want to be published, I want to be a great writer.

But by whose standards? Lots of folks think Nora Roberts, for example, is a great writer, based solely on how many books she sells. Most critics wouldn't agree, though. (Well, literary critics. Romance critics vary on her, sometimes from book to book.)

I think I'm a good writer. I think I could be better if I worked at it, if I gave myself more time, and if I wasn't always fighting a deadline. I also think I've copped out to some extent -- the books I imagined writing, years ago, were novels that could have been (you know, hypothetically) nominated for literary awards. Is anyone going to do that with Murder in the Hamptons, no matter how cute or funny or sexy readers think it is (I'm hoping, here)? No way.

But for me, being paid to write pretty much anything is much better than any other job for me. That's my standard right now. If I can work up the courage and wrestle the time to work on some of the other, scarier-for-me non-genre things I want to write, that will be awesome, but for now, I'm good. Your worthy may vary, obviously. If you like what you're writing, and you get it published, who will decide if it's "great"? (Seriously asking, not being sarcastic.)

Susan, I'm being blunt: I think your need to compete, even with yourself and what you (possibly falsely) perceive to be your limitations and failings, is not good for the writing. Honestly. There's no prize. And it doesn't make you happy, either, that sense of competition.

Writers write. It's what we do. Just write. And don't confuse "I have to be published!" with "I want to be really great at this!" They aren't the same, and getting published isn't a reward or a doorprize. That's not how it works.

Amy, 99% of the time, I have the easy flow. But that 1% of the time is a bitch on wheels. For Eyes in the Fire, I wrote like a tap draining for the first 80% of the book. I knew exactly how to write the ending. And I couldn't do it. I sat there for six weeks, trying to write the ending, and every time I tried, I got the shakes.

I went to Hawaii for a week, and lay in the sun, and swam with dolphins. Then I came home and finished the book.

Anyone who says it's freeflow 100% of the time is totally full of shit.

French toast with powdered sugar:

Susan, I hope this doesn't seem like ganging up. I'm actually trying to be encouraging here, not accusatory. I just don't want to see you beating yourself up for not being published yet, or not being in some way "good enough," when I think you're a very talented writer who picked a hard sell style for her first book. So few people hit it out of the park on the first try, it's not worth comparing, to me at least. You wouldn't believe how many good writers I saw over the years who just didn't have the right book, or the right setting or time period. It is a very competitive business.

Longwinded way of saying: DON'T QUIT WRITING. (Asscaps and all, here.) You are talented, and you are ambitious, and you have the perseverance to keep at it.

But by whose standards?

My standards are kind of fuzzy, actually. I think what's happening is that for the first time in my life I'm running up against big fish in a small pond syndrome in an area that matters to me. You know how kids who are brilliant in their small-town high schools are supposed to run into reality in college and get taken down a peg? It didn't happen to me. College was just as easy as high school, only a hell of a lot more fun and interesting, and I got the same kind of ego-strokes from my professors about how smart I was and what a brilliant writer I was that I got in high school. So I wasn't expecting it to be this hard, because it never was before.

Which probably makes me sound horrible and egotistical, and I should just stop trying to explain.