I have come to realise I am easily disheartened. I walk into bookstores and allow myself to wallow dispiritedly amongst the maze of shelves. There are so many books, so many writers, so few opportunities. A multitude of wonderful writers exist in this world; the majority undiscovered, unpublished, hopelessly lost in the masses of other desperate talented tale spinners... it is easy for me to lose confidence. It may be that I am a quitter, or that I do not have the drive or energy to fight my way through hundreds or possibly thousands of rejection slips. It could be that I just don't have what it takes and I am kidding myself to even harbour these thoughts. All I do know is this need to write burns through my very soul, even if it merely results in reading material for a select group of family and friends.
Hell, we can always use them to start the fire in winter!