A work of fiction. (sort of)*
I've learned a few things this summer, and now I'm going to share the reasons why I'm going to quit writing. Feel free to find the nearest link out of here.
1. Rejection will always be part of the game. But rejection sucks. Even those wonderful, "you were soooo close but..." rejections from well-paying/prestigious markets. I know those type of rejections are supposed to feel like "progress". Sorry, but failure doesn't seem like progress. Never has; never will.
2. Writing feels a little too much like work. Seriously. I try to be professional and all, but I bobbled a contract recently. Totally unprofessional. Of course, it's hard to motivate myself to act like a professional when I'm being paid a penny or less per word (on average) for hours of effort, sweat, and blood. That's the life of an unestablished writer. Hell, even when those "professional rate" sales happen, they must be averaged with all the lower pay rates.
3. Damn, there are a lot of folks doing this writing thing, and a Roman Legion (at least) of them are better than me. Truth.
4. I can make more money selling Legos on eBay. Sorry, also true. And selling Legos on eBay is kind of fun. (Of course, writing is more fulfilling on a "deeper" level, but in a pure cost/benefits analysis, selling Legos wins.)
5. My measure of "success" will never pay well. I don't really want to play the "success" game. I want to write. I want people to enjoy my writing. I want people to be more than entertained when they read a story I write. Entertainment sells. Introspective bullshit doesn't. I won't stop writing it, though.
*I'm not quitting. That's the only piece of the post that's fictional.