Sometimes a writer’s life is full of doubt. At other times, a writer’s life is full of optimism.
There are times I’ve read what I’ve written and thought: This is a bunch of crap. Other times I think: This is really brilliant.
Which is correct? Probably a little of both.
Sometimes I wish for a life that would allow me to write every minute of every day. Other times I truly believe my attempts at becoming a successful novelist are a complete waste of time.
That’s when I wonder if I should take up basket weaving or decoupage.
Right now, the ending of FINDING VERITY remains a mystery to me. There are several directions I could go to get to “The End.”
I’m starting to have doubts about the title, too. In fact, I’m thinking about changing the title to RAT CITY. Don’t laugh… I’m serious!
It would be easy to give up. But, if I did that I’d always wonder because, although I’m not sure about the ending, the beginning is good. Really good. Maybe even brilliant.
I think.
For the Love of Books, Published 1938


