Wow. All right, let me start off by apologizing to everyone for semi-hijacking the thread. That was never my intent. Really, I'm surprised anyone even took so much notice of my one story out of so many here.
Also let me include the preface that I do genuinely appreciate the goodwill of everyone here. I wasn't looking for sympathy or a pity party, I was just telling my own story (again, out of many here) and you are all very kind to be supportive.
That having been said, some responses:
The two people in question, particularly the man who laughed at me, are genuinely arrogant and unpleasant people. I spoke to them for all of 15 minutes, and have no desire to encounter them in any format again as long as I live.
Sidebar: the laughter was more annoying than anything. As I've said many times, I hate my work and I think little of it, so I was not as wounded by this as it might seem.
Mr. Positive Critique, though, immediately after laughing, proceeded in insist I should “keep writing” because I “had some talent”. When I replied that, no, I did not in fact have any talent, he responded with words to the effect of “Well, this one writer in this one essay says there's no such thing as “talent”, there's just being willing to do what you're told.”
In case it's not coming across, it quickly became clear that this guy was more interested in assuaging his own ego by arguing with me than providing any feedback. For my part, I just wanted the opinions of these two, one an established writer, the other a writer/editor, for where I went so wrong with something I had put so much effort into. A literary autopsy, if you will.
At any rate, jackass behavior or not, I still got responses from genuine professionals in the industry. I have been writing for over thirty years and have never published anything.
Actually, that's not true. I have exactly one professional credit. Wanna see it?
http://www.cracked.com/article_19386_5-classic-movies-that-almost-had-terrible-endings.html
That's my name there. Which confuses me, as after that pitch was accepted by the site (which genuinely surprised me, as it was the only one they ever took out of...I lost track of how many suggested), they rewrote it so as to be unrecognizable. There are exactly two sentences in that finished article I actually wrote.
I don't begrudge them that; it's in their TOS they may do things like that. The point is that, in 30+ years of writing, in almost 20 of attempting to do so professionally, my actual credit is literally TWO SENTENCES.
Again, I appreciate the goodwill here, and the intent behind telling me to keep writing if I enjoy it. The problem is, that enjoyment has long since ceased. All writing did at the end was remind me of the decades of failure and the pain it brought on. In talking about this before, I have asked: do you know of anyone who has failed at ANYTHING consistently for twenty years? That's not rhetoric or sarcasm. Can you imagine failing at anything, no matter how hard you tried or what you did, for so long?
Ever read through Steven King's “On Writing”? It's an excellent resource, as so many say. In it, he says that for writing to work, it must be “as sexy as skin on skin”.
Well, after so many years of heartache and failure, with so much painful baggage, writing isn't fun for me any more. It's poison.
That last MS wasn't the only thing I worked on for those five years, certainly. If would be more accurate to say “I spent two years writing it and continued to edit and refine as I moved on”. I was also working on the sequel (of a planned series), some other ideas, a number of supporting short stories, articles, reviews...none of which went anywhere. Well, except for those two sentences. I do, however, agree with you that I wasted all that time.
Mr. King also puts forth the idea that there are echelons of writers: bad ones, good ones, great ones, et al., and expresses the opinion that one cannot move up in those ranks: you cannot make a good writer of a bad one. I'm not sure what I might have made of that view in my youth, but upon reflection of how things have gone for me to date, I'm inclined to agree, and place myself solidly in the “bad” category.
That last MS, when I found no one willing to do anything but laugh at it for four years (again, harsh as it was, Mr. Jackass's reaction was very telling, as it helped me understand what likely happened every time I submitted the thing. I wish I had those countless hours of house research and query writing back), I put it up a little at a time on a serial publishing website.
There, it continued to do nothing. Even friends and online acquaintances that had been supportive of me in years past couldn't find time to help me spread the word. It's the era of social media, quick clicks and free sharing, and even with the damn thing online for free and easily accessible, STILL no one wanted it. A two-year project with thirty years of practice behind it, and I literally could not give it away.
So...yeah, I'm done. I had no business trying to be a “writer”. I simply have no talent, and that's really OK. What isn't acceptable is the pain I caused myself and those close to me agonizing for so many years wondering why I couldn't make anything of my utter lack of ability.
So, in the spirit of Litopia, I will continue to cheerlead and root for others here, because I know firsthand how hard the struggle is. I just wish I hadn't wasted so much of my life banging my head against a brick wall and wondering why it wasn't making me happy.
Emurelda, I hope your story does have a happy ending. Good luck with the entitled ass that thinks you owe him something...somehow.