Wishes and Dreams

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”

  1. 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.


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