One author, whom I have read, wrote to another author, whom I have not read, thus:
"None of the faults is purely literary. The talent is certain: but you have a sickness in the soul. You are much too much in that enchanted world yourself - and perhaps with no very powerful talisman round your neck. You are in love with your own heroine - which is author's incest and always spoils a book. I know all about it because I've been in the wood too. It took me years to get out of it: and only after I'd done so did re-enchantment begin. If you try to stay there the wood will die on you - and so will you!"(1)
It has me thinking - do I seek a story that is not real; do I clench an enchanted wood where I do not belong?
It is good to question, good to evaluate, and evaluate again. Beyond that, I'm not sure what to tell you, or to tell myself. Sometimes one knows, and is very wrong, sometimes one never knows, and is more right than he may imagine.
Take heart, wherever you are at, for you are truly not alone.
- C.S. Lewis, Yours, Jack: Spiritual Direction from C.S. Lewis; Letter to Roger Lancelyn Green, 16 September 1945, p. 114