This isn't really much of a blog post, since I don't have much to say.
I've just been feeling gloomy overall for the past few days. I can't really pinpoint a definite reason for it. The only possible explanation that I can think of is my ScribbleHub novel. Since I didn't post a chapter last week, I basically spend a lot of my free time stressing over whether I can finish a chapter for this weekend.
Meanwhile, it feels like every day I log in, there's more 1-star ratings or disappointing reviews.
I'm really not that sure about what to feel.
Honestly, I know I should expect it. With the topics that I write about, it shouldn't be surprising that I get a lot of hate. I know I should totally put it aside me and ignore all the comments, but it's so much harder to do in reality than how easy it is to say in words.
I guess I'm just surprised by how much it affects me, even though I keep telling myself to not let it affect me.
How do you handle something like this............
Is it even possible to unsee things that show up in your inbox?
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I mean, to be honest, I do have a little bit of ego about my writing.
I think I write quite beautifully. I try to say things that I think are deep and meaningful. I've probably put more of myself in this single novel than I've put into anything I've written before, and I think I've struggled immensely because of it.
This isn't the kind of story I feel like I can just churn out chapters as easy as pie.
I end up nitpicking every sentence because I feel like the only thing I have to offer is pretty words. The earlier chapters were written quite emotionally, and I don't want the purpose I've poured into the story to suddenly disappear. As a result, it takes me forever to plough through a few paragraphs.
For instance, here's the opening to Chapter 5, which I really want to have finished this weekend:
Altheda held her infant in her arms as she looked away, suddenly unwilling to meet my eyes.
Unable to read the expression on her face, I found myself staring at the long shimmering locks that cascaded like a waterfall from the back of her head.
Currently, they were knotted with twigs, mud, and manure, the product of several weeks of sleeping on the streets. Although the deadly brunt of the winter had passed, the temperamental nature of the rainy season in the City of Ohm merely changed the nature of the unpleasantries experienced by the homeless. Oozing sludge that had festered for many months was now swept up by the high tide from the gush of mountainous snowmelt. Even on sunny days that were a brief respite from the repetitive downpours of spring, most slum dwellers found their gritty hair caked in dried mud. For the illustrious former Madam Altheda, this was no exception.
Once upon time in a story from happier days, Altheda’s hair glimmered like like a blanket of twinkling stars. They rippled across the Milky Way, as if the night sky itself had chosen to take residence in her curls. The color was indescribable -- probably closest to silver -- but such a bland description only dealt a gross injustice to the rich complexity of hues present in those keratin fibers. Depending on the sway of her bangs or the angle of sunlight in the sky, one could catch glimpse of a faint blue tinge, a subtle violet sheen, or any kaleidoscope of colors in between.
As soon as we had first met, the scientist inside me had rationalized an explanation. There must have been some trace ultraviolet-fluorescent component to her hair, and the wavelengths of light emitted by those organic compounds could only exist at borderline of the visible spectrum. Frankly, it was impossible for the human eye to perceive the full brilliance of her curls.
Even in this isekai world where it was not uncommon for people to have unusual hair colors or other intriguing features, Altheda could only be considered a gem among gems.
The iridescence of her hair reflected a heart that was as sharp as diamond.
However, even the hardest diamonds could fracture when struck along their weakest point.
Something like this took me two weeks to write?
I just don't know.
I don't really feel great; I think that's the main thing.
I'm not entirely sure why I'm writing? Is that a bad thing to say?
Sometimes I just feel like my chest hurts a little, and I almost never feel good about my writing after logging onto ScribbleHub. To some extent, I almost wish I could undo it all. At least that way, I wouldn't need to worry about writing something for an audience or disappointing people who are eagerly waiting for more.
It feels a little like a burden, maybe a little bit.
Feeling down
Author
ohko
【LGBTQ+ association】 【ohko is ohko!】
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