I think the hardest part about writing is dealing with all the emotion:

The fear, anticipation and excitement of staring at a blank page.

The sense of accomplishment after typing the last word.

The overwhelming panic that comes with the idea of revision.

The sheer vulnerability when showing your work to a critique partner.

The nervousness of pitching your book.

The pressure of making it when everyone says you probably won’t.

The agony of sorting through your thoughts, feelings, emotions and dreams to transfer them to paper. The process of psychoanalyzing yourself and your characters that makes you want to pull your hair out.

The idea that you have to get it right, somehow, no matter how long it takes.

And the small sparkle of hope that you will get it right, somehow, no matter how long it takes.

The creative process is not a flat journey. It has many ups and downs and sometimes those downs can seem so down you may feel like you’ll never be up. Writers in the Storm Blog posted a great article about what these emotions tell us, and I wanted to share a bit with you.

“If you quit writing for a month and you desperately miss it—perhaps to the point of snapping at loved ones and experiencing an unsettling lack of purpose—your melancholy is a reminder of how much you value writing. Fresh disappointment at yet another rejection reminds you of your vulnerability—the open, fluid state from which authors must write. Yearning that all but rips you in two will drive you ever forward toward your goal, no matter the stakes. If you feel deflated when re-reading what you thought was an amazing day’s work, your internal critic is whispering, “Keep working on this. You can do better.

I couldn’t say it better myself. After all, our emotions are a reminder of our passion, and our passion a reminder of our dreams.