Let me clear something up. I am a bitter person generally. I hate Valentine's Day (never mind that it's the stupidest day ever to be celebrated). I think dating is a pain in the arse and tend to avoid it. People are generally stupid. I think corporations are sick (not in that slag "awesome" kind of way). Governments even more so. It takes me years to learn to trust someone. I'm bitter.
Yet, in relation to my writing, I'm not bitter at all. Talking to other authors who are (rightfully) frustrated and angry with the world - their deserving work is still uncelebrated. Why am I not angry? I get angry about everything else. Why am I not angry about this?
I think perhaps that the reason I'm not embittered by my experience is largely due to the fact that I have no expectations. Sure it'd be lovely if an agent or acquisition editor wanted to take up my books. It would be phenomenal if the books were published and they became widely read. It would be beyond my wildest dreams if they were turned into films.
All of that would be incredibly wonderful and, in all seriousness, I'm working hard to perfect my books and get them under the eyes of agents and acquisition editors everywhere. I have an inexplicable drive to have these things published.
The big difference is, I don't have all my dreams pinned on these books. I am not expecting to get rich and famous over them. I don't hate my current job, or my life. I get paid enough to get by. Just. I have good friends. I'm involved in great extra-curricular activities. There are goals outside of writing that I have.
I would like a family. A house. A steady income. As it is now, my job gives me a steady income. The family and house thing will just have to wait, I suppose, until the right time. I have two series' and six books written (well, five and 4/5ths). I'm quite satisfied with where I am right now.
That said, I really, really want to be a published author. I'm certain that being a published author is the path I'm meant to walk and I will continue to work towards it.
Will I ever get there? I'm not sure. I think I will. I'm trusting that I will.
Perhaps in a few more years of fruitless submissions and a larger pile of rejection letters, I might be a little bitter. Alright, a lot bitter (knowing me). As it is now, I'm not, and I'm wondering if it's because I don't have any expectations, or if it's because I'm naively optimistic.
I will be published. I will be published. I will be published....