Want to get depressed? Of course you do—you’re a writer. I read this a few days ago on the Writer’s Almanac:
“It's the birthday [September 8], in Washington, D.C., 1947, of writer Ann Beattie, (books by this author) the author of novels and short stories about Americans who came of age in the 1960s. Her first writings appeared in the early 1970s, when The New Yorker began accepting her short stories. She became something of a legend for how fast she worked: 22 stories in a year, then a complete draft of her first novel, Chilly Scenes of Winter, in three weeks.”
Three weeks for a novel! Twenty-two stories in one year (roughly one every two weeks)! Clearly I am defective.