Monday, September 5, 2016


SO things are becoming a little bit clearer. Which is good, but the changes affect the way I see the world: a lot. When people use to ask me about my writing, I’d always say there was something missing and I’d go to a writing workshop and learn more and always there would be something missing, something holding me back. That piece missing was me. My confidence my health and my ability to write that was all hampered by depression,by me.

I see other people who’ve never taken a writing class be published and succeed and I get hung up on maybe it’s not good enough, so the hang up is still me. No matter how many times I write “I’m good enough,” believe that “I’m strong enough” or look in the mirror and know “my eyes are sparkling enough,” there’s still that part of me that doesn’t believe I can do it, and that’s the part that hold me back from succeeding.

I’m not good enough, I haven’t had the right writing classes, I haven’t had enough writing classes this one will teach me something I don’t know. There is always something I don’t know. But I won’t know it until I do it.

There are many writers that say you don’t know how to write until you write and come up against yourself; no amount of lessons are going to prepare you for what you face when you write your own work and then you have to relearn to write again when you do your second and third and fourth piece etcetera. Even with short stories, we can’t get one sent to the editor, and not have to do a million drafts of the next one.

And so I find that although I didn’t want it to be me it is me that is the catalyst to whether
or not I succeed.

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