I Feel Like Giving Up

It has been roughly four weeks since I learned I have to reduce Flames of Hatred by 100,000 words. I tried right off to do it, but had to abandon it. I tried again, and then again. After four weeks I have cut less than 200 words from the novel. I don't know that I know how to do it. Even if I do, I don't know that I have the energy.

I am not able to decide what to keep and what to remove. The story of Swords of Fire is so damn complex now. Every thread runs thick through each story. Like ripples in a pond after stones have been dropped to disturb the quiet surface it is almost impossible to tell which stone caused which ripple. They collide with each other and become something new.

Or is it just dismemberment? Remove the flesh which holds the organs in place and everything falls away to leave a skeleton. I suppose skeletons have their points of interest, and they can reveal their own stories - given difficult analysis. But a skeleton has no life. The story is perhaps interesting, but not endearing. That's not what I want to write.

It is hard for me to believe my book will ever be published. Emotionally, I feel like calling it a day. It's been more than three decades. My feelings are that this will never happen. I have wasted my life on a dream of smoke which dissipates above my head. I never made it to the clouds. I have nothing to show for what I am. Damn, I hate being a failure. That is the real story of my life. I've never succeeded at anything. And the things I want most have remained furthest from my grasp. I am brilliantly stupid. I hate that.

And do you know what the tragic thing is? I'll keep trying. What else is there to do? Hope wanes, but I guess it never dies. But I don't know what to do. I really don't. Damn it.