We writers are a self-absorbed, whiny bunch, aren't we? We assume the words we write are worthy of consumption and discussion. We expect to be admired for our "originality" and "creativity," and when we present our work to faceless critics, we hope for mindless applause rather than honest scrutiny. We think we're pretty awesome at what we do. Otherwise we wouldn't bother slapping our manuscripts into the hands of weary editors and agents.
Yeah. Well. I'm going to admit I'm very much a diva in that way. And a perfectionist. When I was in high school, I flew into fits of rage whenever I sat down to edit my own work. Haha...I would look at my first draft, curse at how "stupid" and "dumb" it was, and then in pure diva-fashion, delete the entire 60K+ word manuscript from my harddrive.
*cringe* I also remember acting a bit like a diva when I got my first full-request rejection from an agent. Lots of indignant snorting and tearful complaints to tolerant friends and my exasperated significant other. "Well 'eff them for not recognizing my artistic brilliance!" and so on. Hahaha...
You'd think we as writers would grow out of it...but no. We go on thinking we're supremely awesome and talented until the day we die. Oh yes, I'm shaking my head with shame as I type this sentence. No matter what, writers write. Even when we have all the evidence in the world to suggest we SUCK at it. We'll keep going. And we should keep going.
Can you think of any diva moments you've experienced as a writer?