There are days when I wonder if I'm wasting my time. I wonder if every word I've strung together stinks worse than old cheese. I wonder if my plot is plausible or not. I wonder if an editor will look at my ramblings and stop reading after the first few lines.
Today is one of those days.
And still, I write. My fingers tap the keys and my brain guides them away from creating words like was, that and could.
Does the plot have an arc? Are my characters likeable? Will anyone care if my heroine wears a gown I've researched or not? Actually, people who read historical fiction can be sticklers on details, so I'm guessing yes... It begs the question - will the book ever be read by anyone other than my faithful Beta reader? I can never thank her enough.,,
Other writers - some of them good writers - go through this. I am not alone. It doesn't help.
I take some comfort in knowing that today's drivel just might be edited into something readable. But that's tomorrow. Today I wonder if I am writing only for myself.