So here's the thing. When I was little, I was an unfailing optimist. I was a dreamy little girl who told herself stories and talked to everyone and never met a stranger. I had older parents who were lucky I was basically a good kid because they left me to my own devices and I guess I managed just fine. I walked around under the assumption that things would turn out okay and honestly, more times than not, they did. And then somewhere along the way, the world kind of got in the way. I wasn't quite the optimist any more. I knew stuff didn't always turn out as planned. The good guys didn't always win. Idiots sometimes prevailed. And even if none of that was true, I got busy with trying to get by. And then I got busy paying bills. And then I got busy being a mom...
And then - about five years ago - I figured it was now or never. I was still trying to get by, still paying the bills, still being a mom... but - I was going to write or I wasn't. So I did. And I did some more. And some more after that. And if you read this blog you know the rest. I kept writing. I got lucky. And here I am.
So here's the thing. It makes me so happy I'm bursting with it. It's the hardest I've ever worked - and I thought I worked hard. It's scary and it's risky and it's all on me to turn a blank piece of paper into a story. And I love it. I get to talk every day to people who love it as much as I do. I've got a book coming out and a couple more for which I have high hopes. I'm doing what I love and it's loving me right back.
And I guess the bottom line is, it's finally occurred to me that it's okay to want that. That dreams don't get met if you don't dream them.
Til next time...
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