I want someone out there to read my work and tell me I am publishable. Someone to tell me my work is viable. Worthy of being elevated from the great unwashed massed of the unpublished to the hallowed all mighty halls of The Agented and Published.
The problem with this is I have received the odd compliments and from people I don't think would bother to flatter me if they didn't have too. Really the problem is I lack any confidence at all. It probably wouldn't matter if the greatest author on earth said to me "You are totally ready! Just finish that novel and it's sure to be a best seller!" I STILL wouldn't believe them. There isn't enough confidence in the world to matter if it is all external. It has to come from with in. And isn't that where we all fail. The creeping rot disease of doubt?
I fall prey to that more than anything, the crippling elf doubt that my words will never be good enough. Once in awhile people do tell me I'm good. That my work is smooth and engaging. But there is the constant inner nagging doubt that whispers to me they are just blowing smoke.
My only solution is slog onward and hope for the best. Go forward and hope I'm not wasting yet more time. I feel like I wasted my whole life on doing all the wrong things and now I'm running out of time if I ever want to be published.
I sincerely hope this isn't the case.