In other words, I have been feeling antsy and sad that none of my books have taken off the way that I had hoped and was starting to believe that I should just give up and accept I'm not really a writer.
Any one who writes knows that is a low place to be, when you start to doubt that you are really any good it feels as if everything you ever wanted for yourself has just be another one of your fevered imaginings.
That's not to say that I haven't been writing, I have. In fact, I have three more manuscripts peculating, but that doesn't mean I was writing for the masses. I had become a coward and I was so afraid to show a friend of mine, who actually is a successful writer, my revamped "Under the Hill" manuscript because I feared that she would tell me what I had convinced myself was true --- that I didn't have "it." Imagine my surprised when she was ENTHUSIASTIC about the manuscript. It was like hope had been reborn inside me and I went home and started working on an experimental novel that I've been toying around with and the story opened up to me in a way it hadn't for a long time.
I started to feel my gift returning. I realized that I may never be an acclaimed writer adored by millions, but I'm a writer and I'm going to keep writing for as long as the the words pour out of me.
I'm back and its about time!