I seriously have about 10 blog posts chilling in my drafts bucket of this blog. I write them, or half write them, then leave them, and I’m not sure why I don’t publish them. I’ve thought on this and I realize it’s because I just needed to write down my thoughts. They weren’t for anyone but myself and that’s okay. They will forever be immortalized in my draft box.
Lately, I’ve been super inspired to ‘do this’. Most of you know my story and know that it really hasn’t changed. Yes, I’m still working a full time job that makes me absolutely miserable from 8am – 5pm and I’m writing whenever I can. I added LuLaRoe in the mix though (not sure what I was thinking!) and I feel like I will be slightly stepping back from that to refocus on writing because it’s my passion, it’s what makes me happy, and I love it. I love LuLaRoe too, but I need more structure with my time and something has to give.
Most of this work work work work work has been going on since the Summer of 2013, which in a month, will put me at 3 years of writing until I can’t keep my eyes open.
I’m in the trenches and that’s okay because I’m not alone, and I know one day, one day, I will be writing that magical post that tells everyone that ‘it’ happened. I look forward to that day. I dream about that day. But this needs to be on the record. I need to write posts like this so I can look back and see where my head was during times like this.
Not too long ago, I had someone say something to me that’s really stuck with me. This person said, “oh I thought you’d be somewhere with this writing thing by now.” Honestly, I can’t remember who said it. I just remember where I was standing and how I felt when it was said. Sometimes people are assholes and don’t realize how rude their words are. What’s even worst is they say it with a big ole smile on their face, like they are being genuine, when in reality they are being an oblivious douche canoe. After 8 novels, yes I did have to count on my fingers, I understand that I’m not “big time” by some peoples standards. Lyra Parish who?
I think about how someone once said that you’re not considered a writer until you hit 1 million words written. (Maybe it wasn’t exactly like that. I’ll have to google it. I thought JK said it but I can’t find the source.) I’m not sure what I will expect when I actually write 1 million words, maybe canons will come from the ground and shoot confetti or something, but it’s my goal. Right now, I added up that I’m at around 502,000 words written, so I’m halfway there. I think when I hit 1 million words, I’ll know not that I am an author, but rather who I am as an author.
Failure meant a stripping away of the inessential. I stopped pretending to myself that I was anything other than what I was, and began to direct all my energy into finishing the only work that mattered to me. Had I really succeeded at anything else, I might never have found the determination to succeed in the one arena I believed I truly belonged.” -JK Rowling
It may take me 500,000 more words before I’m able to do this every moment of my life. Hell, it may take me 1 million more words. That’s okay. Because tonight, as I was chatting with a dear friend who inspires the shit out of me, I had a realization and I knew that I wasn’t going anywhere. I’ve thought about quitting so many times. I’ve thought about walking away and just being done with it all. I’ve said to myself so many times that it didn’t work and no one cares. No one will even notice if I just vanish and stop checking my messenger and deactivate all of my social profiles. It’s a horrible thought and it tortured me for months. But I tried to imagine my life without writing and it’s impossible. I took a hiatus for 3 months to think it all over. I didn’t write a word. When my pity party for 1 was over, I knew that I can’t not create. It’s engrained into my body and soul. I have to do something creative or I fall into a weird depression of sorts, and I don’t take that word lightly.
The truth is: writing makes me happy.
In the end, it doesn’t matter if I haven’t written my “break through” yet. It doesn’t matter if I’m not “big time” by someone else’s standards. What matters the most is, after everything that I’ve gone through, the countless all nighters, is that I’m still going. I’m still writing. I’m still pushing. I’m learning every single day. I’m happy with my progress because each one of those books has taught me something about myself. And after it all, I’m still reaching for the stars even though I may be standing dangerously on my tiptoes at the very top step of the ladder.
The reality is I’m not going anywhere.
Love your life. Work hard. Learn from your mistakes. Keep loving, smiling, and pushing. We’ve got this! Remember those who loved you when you were nobody, who were willing to help you along the way. Don’t forget where you came from. Be thankful for your friends. They are precious angels. And last but not least: I’ll leave you with a little piece of my sororities creed from college–be humble in success without bitterness in defeat. It’s words I live by.
….and maybe no one will read this post and that’s okay. I wrote it and published it so it wasn’t forever lost in my drafts of what could have been.