Crazy as a loon

It’s happened. After 21 years of marriage and six children, I'm finally losing my mind. That condition has been called insane, mad, touched, loony, a few bananas short of a bunch, lost their marbles, etc. It must be common since there are so many expressions for it.

Since I've been actively writing, I have been less happy with the books I read. I find myself scowling and saying "This worthless dribble got published?! I can sooooo write better than that!"

Then I read something truly great by someone like Lynn Kurland, Lisa Kleypas, Candice Hern, or Julia Quinn (whose book has started this last round of neurosis) and I sigh and I'm delighted, and all is right with the world.

Then I get depressed and start crying because I'm not that good and I worry that I'll never be that good and do I really WANT my publisher to publish MY worthless dribble for all the world to scorn and mock? Getting a contract didn't make me feel more validated - it made me even more insecure than ever. Maybe it’s my editor who’s crazy, or she wouldn’t like my writing.

Yes. I've finally lost it. I always thought if it happened, it would be my children’s fault. Who would have thought it would be of my own making? Funny farm, here I come!