Worry Wart

Why worry? Really. What function does it have? I think none. When does worry strike you? Perhaps when some blogger goes on about it when you're hoping for pithy words about writing. I know that if I write my worries down, or speak them aloud to somewhat indifferent but kind ears (sweet patootie, Hoagy) it helps dissipate them. So here goes:

Writing Worries

1. All my back-ups and clouds (lie, I have no clouds - see #8) and my main computer will crash on the same day that everyone who has a copy of any of my manuscripts will toss it in the shredder and I will be left, like Jo March, to weep bitter tears.
2. I have forgotten something essential in the book I'm currently working on - like the plot. This seems totally crazy but I assure you, it could happen. It happened to Virginia Woolf, but she made an attribute of it. In some circles.
3. My friends and lovers have lied to me. I'm really quite insane, but no one will tell me. They just allow me to live day to day in the belief that I am accomplishing something called 'writing'. When I enter a room where they are talking, they hush themselves and try to stop their eyes from rolling.
4. Even if I don't lose all my writing in a technological sh*t storm, and my friends aren't lying to me, the publishing world will implode before my opus is ready to be sprung upon them.
5. Should the first four things not happen, I will fail in my valiant attempt to help market my book and it will end up in those book sales you see in the middle of malls for $1.99 AND still people won't buy it.
6. I will realize, just as I sign the contract with the agent and or publisher, that it was all a dream and I am, in fact, a librarian, just as my parents wanted me to be. A spinster librarian with nothing but empty dreams of Parisian garrets.
7. I will get my current book published only to find out that someone has published a much better book with the same title and plot (yes, this is when I don't have worry #2 going on). I will be denounced and left a laughing-stock.
8. I will not be able to keep up with the knowledge of new technology and no matter how brilliant my work is (there - I saw it, Hoagy rolled his eyes - and he's a dog!) I will not be able to be a happy working writer. I'm simply too old to get clouds. Except in the old-fashioned notion of white fluffy things that obscure the sun.
9. I will have a book published to great critical acclaim, but not know it, as I will have lost my mind in the revision process. It will be an empty victory.
10. I will have a book published and will know it, only to find out that it isn't really what I was wanting after all. I really want to be a famous photographer or dog-trainer or perhaps run one of those nifty water-taxis in Vancouver