An ode to feeling appreciated.

Yesterday I received my first ever piece of fanmail as a writer, that’s what I’m considering it to be anyway. Somebody I do not know personally took the time to say how much they had enjoyed my writing and it was very sweet of her and it couldn’t have come at a better time.

Trying to find a literary agent or publisher is a gruelling task, there’s very little sense of achievement and it takes far too long to do, I like to get things done but for some reason compiling manuscripts, finding an agency, finding the correct person within that agency, writing a cover letter, trying to work out what should be in a synopsis, whether it’s worth paying a reading fee…. it’s all just thankless.

I appreciate it whenever anyone shows any interest in my writing, I really do, and friends and family and particularly my girlfriend give me a lot of support but I feel, and this is one of my many faults, that I don’t deserve that support or congratulations or whatever else, or that they are obliged to provide that support through their proximity to me and my life. It makes it hard to accept good feedback and creative criticism knocks more than it should but that’s my own thing and I’m dealing with it.

I think what I’m trying to say is that it’s a very lonely existence being ‘creative’ so anyone that reaches in is very much appreciated in turn. One of my friends recently told me that if she enjoys a book she will write to the author and tell them so. It’s something I had never considered (possibly because I read Salinger, Orwell, Hemingway, Kerouac) but I think it’s an amazing idea.
What I propose is that if you enjoy someone’s output whether that be a story, a poem, a song, photography, painting, an essay, whatever, please let them know, we all crave recognition.