Revision is not easy. No one ever said it was. I’m revising a novel right now, and I have high hopes. My edit letter has brought out a fire in me. Ideas are swirling. I see so much possibility for the book… But it’s hard work.

I have such high hopes and such enormous intentions that I’m thinking of holing up for the entire month of July. I may see only my husband, my barista, and the security guard downstairs as I sign in and out of my writing space.

I just really want this to be the best thing I’ve ever done so far in my life, you know? And that’s pressure.

But no matter how hard this may be—and no matter the worries and stress I put on myself when the doubts come—I’ve been realizing lately just how lucky I am. How lucky it is to have this opportunity to work so hard. To have an editor. (A phenomenal editor. Her edit letter might be better crafted than my novel itself.) An editor who loves my book enough to buy it and spend all this time on it to make it better. Do you know how badly I wanted this in the years before when I was working on an ill-fated novel that ate up years of my life? How hungry I was to have someone give me a shot? How I would have worked, worked like mad, done anything really, if only I’d had this one person who could help me find a way to write that book better?

I may look like a working writer revising for her editor, but in reality I’m the same person I was at my lowest point around five years ago when no one would give me a chance. I’ll never stop being that person—rejection really does shape who you are and, more, who you want to be. It makes you work harder. It makes you want it more. It made me who I am today.

I hate thinking back to those years because they were really painful and embarrassing. But I can’t help remembering now.

Years ago, I would have killed to be in this moment. I feel so grateful.

Back to work.