OK, feeling sad today

[serai]

I need some strokes.



Those who know me know that I don't usually go in for crying in public (at least outside of an LOTR screening). My depressive side is something I tend to keep private, mainly because, let's face it, who the fuck wants to hear about it?

But I guess this has been building up for some time, cause this morning it's just spilling over to the point where I wanna get some kind words. I know, I know, it's childish and sad, but I can't help it.

There ain't a whole lot I do on the web anymore. I used to gad about message boards, socializing and giggling and snarking and having a great time, but that phase eased off. Now mostly I'm on LJ, and that's almost all because of writing. It's my only creative outlet anymore, and I treasure it, both writing and reading the stuff other fan writers come up with. I try hard to come up with good pieces, and I comment and give praise whenever something I read gives me pleasure. (Although there have been a couple of stories that have hit me so hard that I couldn't comment, no matter how wonderful the writing. Don't know why that is.)

Apparently my stuff does please some folks. I've had lovely feedback from readers, and thank you all so much for your kindness and enthusiasm for my ramblings. It's so nice to know that my words bring some happiness - I write for myself, but it's always in the back of my mind that maybe what I write will brighten someone's day.

So why is it I feel so ignored and left out sometimes?

I've only ever made one rec list, that of a friend who posted her faves on her LJ. When award time comes around, I never get any noms. I'm never mentioned when good writers are being discussed (at least not that I've seen or heard about) - the only exception I can think of is one or two very close friends who are kind enough to mention me. My stories don't come up in rec sites or get-togethers when people post the stuff they really like. I get such nice reactions when I post my fics, yet it never seems to last.

Why doesn't anyone remember me?

And why is it that the writers I really admire, the ones whose work drew me into fandom writing in the first place, all ignore me? (With one exception - thank you, dear willow_wode.) Why do they treat me like some buzzing fly to be swatted aside, or never acknowledge that I can write at all? I don't have any great confidence in my abilities, but I know that I have enough talent to make my stuff at least readable. So why am I shoved aside by these people, as if I were some little kid not worth the time of day?

I know this is pathetic and stupid, and I hate it when I come across people who whine and moan about such things. That's why I've never made a post like this before, why I keep these feelings to myself, or only talk about them privately. I don't like burdening other people with my feelings of sadness or isolation.

But I can't keep this in anymore, and the latest straw is breaking this camel's back. I don't have any intention of ceasing my writing, and I know a lot of this is probably my own problem, but I can't help it. I'm just feeling really left out and sad. Could somebody please talk to me about this, because I'm sitting here crying and not knowing why about any of it, least of all why it should matter to me as much as it does.



I'm sorry if any of this makes anyone roll their eyes. It's not something I like to indulge in, but...you know.

Later: Thank you folks so much for your kind words. It's really helping a lot. RL took me away for most of the day, and I've decided to walk up the street and catch ROTK again this evening. I need to remind myself of why I'm in this in the first place. I will answer more comments when I return later tonight. :)

Comments

[serai1.livejournal.com]

How is it that a hack like Danielle Steel makes million of dollars, and self-indulgent tripe such as The Horse Whisperer was on the bestseller list and got a movie made from it?

Ay, don't I know it. But whenever I think that - so much crap gets applauded, why doesn't mine? - there's the part of me that answers with something along the lines of your stuff sucks, why should anyone want to read it? A lot of this isn't realism or logic, but my own waves of depression overtaking me, which is why I don't usually say anything, and why I consider this outburst childish. That voice is very harsh, but it's also inside my own head, and it doesn't notice whether it's speaking truth or not.

Which is why I'm so grateful for friends like you. It means a lot to me (as I'm sure you know yourself) when good writers like my work, cause that includes me in that circle, a place I've always wanted to be, whatever the genre or style. I've tried a number of creative things in my life, but writing seems to be the only one that really leaps out of me with its own life, and it's my great joy. Perhaps it's because it comes out so energetically that I don't consider myself to have any great talent - I've never had the feeling that I write any of it. Rather it feels as if I'm given these things by my Muse, and all I do is take dictation and clean it up a little.

Then again, maybe I'm just pullin' me own weed here.

Ay, lass. Time to stop waterin' and get back to plantin'. You and I've a thing or two to talk over, if you take my meanin'.

You're right, Sam. Enough weeping. :)

Thanks, Willow! *hug*