The Depths of Despair, Starring Me

Now that I’m just a breath away from being half-done this book, I’m experiencing gross amounts of feeling unworthy and hack-like and wishing I’d never agreed to the whole thing. Mind you, it’s rather difficult when a publisher asks you to write a book; it’s damned flattering. Still, I’m currently in the depths of despair and firmly convinced that I’m just rehashing material that’s already out there, creating superficial text with no substance, not connecting thoughts in any sort of intelligent fashion, and doing a lame, lame job in general.

Things I keep repeating to myself include:

– this is a book for intermediate practitioners, people who maybe have read one or two books on the subject and want to know why and how

– this is your opportunity to myth-bash to your heart’s content

– here you may collect all the little tips and tricks you’ve figured out over the years to help others

– what would I like to see in a new book like this?

I keep slipping into the “what would I like to see” and forgetting that I’ve been reading books like this for almost a decade. My needs are not the needs of my target audience.

I stare at the words I’ve got and wonder how I can expand upon them. I think I’m getting to a point where I need feedback. Ceri helped me yesterday (her aid being worth about a thousand words!) simply by answering a question regarding what she would like to see in a chapter on correspondences, and that material will be further expanded. I have a skeleton. It needs more body mass.

So why is it scaring me so much? Why am I avoiding it? Why am I firmly convinced that this is it, there isn’t any more?

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