Sometimes life just gets in the way of what we really want to be doing.
And sometimes things aren’t as they appear.
I’ve been writing Journeyers, much like this post where I talk about Joan Didion and Abigail Thomas, I’ve been penning words to paper and banging them out on my keyboard.
But here’s what else I’ve been doing.
Updating my query for Digging for the Light.
I should be devoting more time to that endeavor, but the research and effort that goes into finding an agent that you might suit (and whom might also suit your long term goals) is exhausting.
And here’s the rub: If we’re not writing, then we’re not writers.
I’m finding it difficult to Mom, Bookkeep, Work, Brainstorm, Teach, Write and Research, and Sleep.
Darned that Evil Slumber!
But here’s the thing, I’ve had this dream for twenty-three years now.
Actually, I first dreamt of becoming a writer when I was twelve years old and lay sunbathing on my sidewalk, fantasizing about being the world’s youngest author.
That day might have long come and gone, but I’ve had this desire for most of my life and I’m not giving up on her.
When I begin to feel defeated or like it will never happen or start beating myself over the head with a hammer, I remember that the road may be long and windy, but slowly and steadily I’m winning the race.
So, anywho, I’m off to finish dusting off that query and tailor it to someone I think (hope, pray, beg, plead, and have strategized toward) might just be a match.
And I’m hoping this opening line, one I spent years pairing down and honing in on, lures her in.
Wish me luck, my magical friends!
Hugs and healing!