BAD NEWS BEARS
Okay. Kristin passed on THE DISAPPEARED. There it is. I still love her. She totally rules. But she passed.
Here’s the part in the story where the camera pans to the writer walking down a deserted street. An empty bag of some sort skirts by while dead leaves swirl and Coldplay sounds in the background.
All the movements you’re starting to make
See me crumble and fall on my face
And I know the mistakes that I made
See it all disappear without a trace
All these rejections just make me stronger, right? Well, maybe. Maybe not. Because here’s the big scary black fear that hulks underneath my bed at night waiting to eat me: That I won’t make it as a writer. And then what? Then I’m stuck at my day job Stepfordizing my way through each day. Not writing.
Not good.
Anyone else out there know the feeling?