Ordinarily, I try to keep an optimistic outlook about my writing. I do my best not to complain about writing or the publishing process, because really, I have no right to complain about it. No one forced me into writing; I chose it all by myself. If I feel the need to complain about it then I'll have to deal with that all-important question: why am I even doing this in the first place?
But even when I'm at my most optimistic, I still have to face a wet blanket every so often. These are the people who pester me with stupid questions like: "Do you think you'll actually 'make it' as a writer? Why don't you stop this insanity and get a real job?" To which I respond: "This is a real job. Back off, Brutus." Sometimes the naysayers even come in the form of supposed allies who ask questions like: "So, how's the book coming?" when they really mean: "Are you going to get published before me?" To which I reply again: "Go soak your head, Brutus."
The Ides of March are when writers need to look carefully at their life and identify who are their friends and who are really back-stabbers posing as friends. Then we turn to the latter and say:
E tu Brute?
Because we don't need negative energy in our lives. We don't need any more conflict than that which we already create on the page ourselves. And to those writers out there who get soaked by wet blankets but manage to shake the water off: you are my heroes. Write on!