You and I know that I’ve been thinking over (dwelling on?) the implications of giving up my dream to be a Writer, and I came to the conclusion that it wouldn’t be so bad, that it might in fact be freeing…
BUT I am not about to give up. Not anytime soon.
I am nothing if not persistent.
When you’ve had a dream since you were in the fifth grade, and every choice you’ve made in life, some I will admit faulty, had to do with this dream, it probably makes sense that you’d become attached to it. I mean, just because I’m taking a little break to get my head—and my heart—together doesn’t mean I’m done for good. (This is what I keep telling myself. It sounds better on weekends.) I liked what the novelist John Baker said in his comment—it makes me feel hopeful. I like that the amazing and inspiring visual artist Sharon told me not to give up. I like W‘s idea of “reshaping the escape route.” I like all the advice everyone has given me: thank you for listening, and thank you for not telling me to shut up!
There is a good chance that I will keep trying for this until I die. No harm in that, right?
All I need to do now is find my way back toward being a writer. A real writer, the kind who writes what she loves and doesn’t let yesterday’s rejections kill her.
I would like to start small. If you have a thought for a way to get back into it, let me know. For now, I am carrying around my notebook again. I am reading books again (as of last night I’ve been swallowed up by The Mistress’s Daughter). I’m taking lunch breaks (a walk to the library yesterday, then the chocolate factory). I’m observing my neighbors, collecting ideas for characters and stories. I’m letting myself feel a teensy bit excited about what I might write next…
Mainly, I am telling myself it’s not over yet. Because, you never know, maybe it’s not?