During the rounds of Leaving Ordinary edits, I dropped into a mental hole of ugly and semi-brutal, weeks of self-doubt. I asked myself, Was my novel any good? Would anyone want to read it? Would I be told the story sucked and was boring? At various times, I reminded myself that I was building a new skill set, which takes effort and practice. I reflected on Malcolm Gladwell's reported quantified measurement of 10,000 hours of skill-building. On a rational level, I understood my fears, and on my emotional scale, I kept swinging between excited and creative and inept and unnerved.
I voiced my concerns to writing friends who empathized. They confirmed that this is sometimes part of the process. I heard and felt their support and, at times, felt better. Other times I stalled in the muck.
On an afternoon walk through a St. Paul, Minnesota neighborhood, I discovered a beautiful floral shop. Inside the store was a creative combination of flowers for sale and an art gallery. Following a nudge to look up, I discovered a Grecian or Roman woman garden statue positioned on a ledge near the ceiling. I liked the statue immediately.
A clerk asked if I needed any assistance. I told her no and commented that I liked the statue. The clerk replied, “That’s Louise. She watches over us.” My writing doubts have not vanished, but they have been softened, and I know ‘my’ Louise watches over me.