I don’t know why doubt has crept in again. Things with Messy Death couldnt’ be going better and progress is being made on my YA book, but something in me is scared to death. The writing industry is hard to break into. Talent gets turned down every day. Why am I good enough? In my mind, I’m of course a rock star, but a party of one rarely makes a publishing house money, right? To anybody who is anybody, I’m a big fat nobody. I thought epubing my YA would boast my confidence and help me get over these not-so-locked away fears, but now I’m doubting that decision too. Tomorrow will be better, I’m sure. I will wake up, work on a project, see my son and daughter’s smiling face and know I’m on the right path. But here, in this moment, I wonder if I should just stop all this ‘dreams of being an author’ nonsense and know my place in life? I’m a stay-at-home mom who is struggling to finish college with a major that doesn’t guarantee a good paying job if any when all is said and done. In fact, the only thing it guarantees is a FAT student loan. I know I’ll never give up on my writing. I can’t. It isn’t in me to leave it behind, but maybe the publishing dream is too far out of my reach. Maybe I’m just destined to be a thirty something mom who is trying like mad to raise her kids, keep her marriage stable and earn a college education. Is that good enough? For some maybe. For me…not so much. I want it all. I want the unrealistic expectation. I don’t want to sacrifice everything to get it, but then who ever does? I’m sure none of this is making a whole lot of sense, but I needed to get it out.
“We all go a little mad sometimes,”