Sorry so long without an update. School stresses me out and puts me into a ‘I can’t do anything if I’m not doing my schoolwork’ mode. It’s fun and great but soooooooooo stressful.
I’m doing it for a good reason, though. Trying to fulfill that lifelong dream of being a good author. Not necessarily a best-seller, though that would be nice, but to actually write something that makes a DIFFERENCE. I read all this great literature, with all its layers and complexities and metaphors and symbolism, and I can’t help but be overwhelmed and depressed. How can I do it? How can I possibly write that well? Then the therapy-driven part of my brain tells me I’m a good writer already and cites evidence from the classes I’ve already had and the feedback people give me. I just need to work at it. And there’s the rub, I guess — work. When I was a child, I was ‘saved’ from everything that was hard, which taught me I can’t do it. But I can. I’ve done it before. I can do it again. And I’m learning more, so I can do even BETTER. I’m really looking forward to next semester; I’ve heard really good things about my fiction professor, so I’m hoping it will really help.
Right now, though, we need a new mantra. No more ‘I can’t.’ Now, repeat after me: I CAN. I CAN WORK HARD. I CAN ACCOMPLISH THIS. Rinse. Repeat.
2 thoughts on “Wishes and Dreams”
You don't have to write like those other people do. Just write like you do. 🙂
So did I tell you how much I loved the book start you sent me ~4 yrs ago? I did. My computer ate it. I can't reread it. THat makes me sad.
More importantly the timing of my reading it was perfect.
Shortly (the same day?) after I finished reading it we learned my Father-in-law had died. We drove some very long very dark miles from Casa grande to Page, AZ. We were already having to take two cars everywhere we went and I can't usually drive for more than 3 hours a t a time without serious pain in my leg. I am also slightly night blind.
My oldest who talks and keeps you entertained and awake was riding with her dad. My second who never talks and usually is deeply buried in a book was with me. I spent hours telling her your story with every detail I could remember after having just read it.
It was a very precious and even sacred experience with my daughter in the midst of the terrible grief we were suffering. In other words it made a DIFFERENCE.
One I am for one am extremely grateful for.
I love you Dyany! Just thought I would let you know.