I had a story that I toiled over for 4 months. It was to be my first submission. I wrote it, rewrote it, added story, added filler and finally hit my 8,000 word count. I submitted it and waited patiently for a response. Deep down I knew that it wasn't getting published and for the most part didn't get my hopes up. Of course there was that little flame that burned inside of me that hoped it would. A wanting to be able to say "I am a published author". Alas it wasn't meant to be. It was as suspected rejected. It hit me harder than I thought it would. You see, I am always being told I am a good writer. I have always been complimented on the blog and I love when people read it for the first time and are surprised that it is any good. Writing (when the inspiration hits) is the only thing I am passionate about. So in one fell swoop, an editor devalued my only form of creativity. I was told; as I always have been "You aren't good enough". This is hard to hear when it is a demon you have been fighting all your life. I am my own worst enemy.
The more I thought about it though, the more I realized that I don't want to be a published author. That maybe, I was trying just like in my twenties to be someone else. Maybe because my dear friend could do it - so could I. The truth is - as it was then though - I am not her. I do not have her motivation, nor do I have her dedication. I do not have the ability to say F you to the extraneous factors in my life that control me like a marionette. I, to this day have no follow through. Ask me how my running is going then ask me about warlock and see which one is progressing further. Sure I could use the havoc the weather is wreaking on my foot thanks to the toes breaks, but then I could also have my fat ass on a bike instead of a desk chair.
I've read and reread this blog which turns 1 year old next month and I have seen some growth in myself, I have also seen many instances where I have not learned a single thing. They say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again. If this is true, then I am indeed certifiable. I try to promote strength and Independence in my blog. I want people to see they are not alone in their struggles if they can relate to my posts - yet I suddenly feel like a false prophet. I am no closer to being that strong independent woman now then I was over a year ago when I moved out. I don't even see it as feeling sorry for myself, nor am I trying to extract pity. Sometimes you just have to put it out there in words so maybe you can move on.
Finally - I had previously said that if the story didn't get published - I would blog post it. I have decided not to. One person has read it so it has seen the light of day, but I am going to lay it to rest along with the thoughts of ever being published. I'll instead focus on my baby - the blog. I'll continue treat you or bore you whenever my muse rears her pretty coifed head! This is where it started after all.
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