January 07


Helpless 7/1

Helpless. Not being in control.

That feeling every writer gets when they send their work off to be read by someone else. We’ve all had the feeling. Remember that essay? that project you were so proud of when you were at school. That report for your boss, now you are at work. A DIY project, your partner wants. All those loving hours of work you placed into it. Nurturing it, making it the best it could be. Then you handed it over, for marking, the aprobation of your peers; the criticism of your soulmate.

Your stomach takes a rollercoaster ride of fear and doubt. It’s no longer your greatest work; the pinacle of your career. It’s  potentially a crock; a pile of poo. A no good worthless heap of junk.

Helpless. Not being in control.

You pace. You worry. You wait for the verdict. You don’t sleep. You eat too much; too little. You drink too much; too little. You’re on tenderhooks. Falling freefall into the abys of self doubt.

Helpless. Not being in control.

And you’re in less control when the verdict comes in.  Rejected you wallow in pity before  picking yourself up to start again. Or you float on air. Until with coming down to earth with a bang you realise, that you’re only as good as the last piece of work…

Helpless. Not being in control