Recent disgust at family reaction to Orlando caused a few things to jiggle together.
Mostly realization on why I take the lack of feedback so hard. Boils down to ‘this is the best shot I have at some kind of income, and i don’t feel like my material is good enough to try even putting in a self published format for consumption.’ Add in stories of ‘Oh hey person gets a ton of help,’ or groups i"m sorta part of kinda coming together for one reason or another and then getting told ‘I can’t help you, the only one that can extract you from this mess is you.’ It’s… just.
You pick that person, and this person, and have enough money to spend on a fucking warhammer minifig habit where crack literally would be cheaper… and you NONE of you can fucking invest in helping give me a hand up or even glance my way when I wanted to have a spare set of eyeballs?
It’s rage inducing to the point of making an already poor mindset even worse. I see writing as inherently a good activity and I have a thousand ideas, but it’s… Yea The fact this is the thing that looks like my best bet at some kind of personal income just hurts and it feels like i’ve been beating my head against a door that’s got a clear ‘pull to open’ notice attached to it.
