Just between us, I often wonder if the writing life is really for me?
I have two published poetry books, works in several Christian anthologies, my works appears online and I author several blogs, but I feel something is missing.
Just between us, I sometimes wonder if it's all worth it. My name can be googled, but I wonder if people really care who I am or even what I do.
I have a great blog following. My poetry books(well, I used Publish America so I don't really know how that went) got me through many doors, but I still feel the rejection outweighs the acceptance.
Just between us, there are days I feel like throwing in the towel. It's not that I don't want to write(I love to write) it's I don't know if I really have it in my veins. Is it my calling?
Just recently I received a rejection(with plenty of criticism). I know it wasn't my best work, but I sent it out anyway. Am I getting lazy and sloppy? I don't know. At the same time a story I wrote last summer was accepted by an online magazine. I felt elated.
Just between us, is a writer's life what I want? I question my choice to put words down on paper. But then I think about some of my favorite authors who struggled: Thoreau, Hemingway, Poe..they all had doubts, but it didn't stop them from their passion...writing!
Writing is a gift to use here in the present....
Just between us, I'll continue writing until I no longer exist. Whether I receive accolades or admonishments I will forge through the despair...just between us.