...well, you know how the saying goes.
every year, at least one freeze (yes, freeze, in Arizona) comes along and fries my backyard bushes.
every year, after hacking away at the dead leaves, i end up with a pile of sticks.
every year, i see those dried-up bones and think THIS is the year they won't come back.
and every year, this happens:
it starts with a little green here and there, then a few flowers, and in about a month - a brand new, healthy bush.
the sticks will still be there, scarred from my hacking away with power tools, but now they are the bones of a better, stronger plant - a plant that would not have thrived without being cut down first.
this is what happens to writers on the path to publishing.
we spend a season growing something beautiful, but then a dark time comes along - negative feedback from a crit partner, an agent rejection, a book that doesn't sell... and suddenly everything we once thought pretty now looks sort of brittle and gray and unworthy of sitting next to the other beautiful things. so we hack away all those ugly parts and try to grow something new to cover up the scars.
that's perseverance. that's how we get better, how we come back stronger with every draft - we absorb the criticism and take pride in the scars that help make our skin a little thicker.
i guess all i'm trying to say is, there are setbacks on the path to publishing. sometimes those setbacks are many and painful, but that's all they are - setbacks. not stop signs.
as writers, we love to plant something and watch it grow.
but you want to feel real pride?
cut something down to nothing... and watch it grow back stronger.