Showing posts with label self pity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label self pity. Show all posts

20.3.07

It's all gone chilly again...




Cancer 20/3/2007


A dramatic shift in your emotional landscape may trigger your natural fear of the future. Your path in life could be changing now and you need a logical plan to make your dreams come true. Don't remain inactive because of your apprehension of the unknown. Find the courage to push through your own resistance and envision a new life for yourself.


Does that mean I should get over the rather patronising rejection I've just had from yet another an agent? Lord knows I've had enough of them in my time...to be honest, I'm getting a bit tired of it all. I've been in this game for nearly two decades now and my bulging folder of rejection letters is a potted history of publishers and agents. The earliest ones are typewritten...I am tired of trying. Twenty years is too long to devote to earning five grand a year. I am feeling that I'd just like to give up - stop battling the storm and sink beneath the waves. I've done nothing but paint for the last eight years, and I'm still earning less than your average part time supermarket worker - a wage I am highly familiar with. Although I've worked on some lovely things in the last couple of years, I seem to be incapable of exciting any agent. I've promoted to every suitable publisher in the UK, and as many again in Europe and the USA , but despite the huge amount of time, money and effort I've put into it, I am not getting any commercial work. Worse, I am still getting my writing rejected...and that does p*ss me off, because I actually enjoy writing and I always thought I was OK at it. I was feeling optimistic a few weeks ago, when the lovely gallery folk came over and stroked my ego - but I can't rely on another lucky break like that.

They came again last week, delightful as ever, and left me with one of those handy cheque things; they bought the Winnie-the Pooh artworks, and gave me a good price for them. No haggling, bless them. So I have enough money to replace my dying computer and limp along for a bit longer. Maybe I should buy a scooter and get a real job in town. Get a life, accept that for whatever reason I'm not good enough to make it or maybe I am but I just don't fit in, and start making some kind of real contribution to the household.
I'm sorry. I hate moaners, but there is something about being told (yet again) that your best work is not good enough which would send the most stoic of people into a chasm of gloom. Here, have a picture. On the house. Normal service may be resumed later.