I’m here to admit that I don’t know what I’m supposed to be in the eyes of the world. No matter how hard I work or how much I give it is never going to be right. I’m also here to say that I’m working every single day to not care about that anymore.
I’m working on a novel. “Oh, your first novel!” No. Technically, this is my 3rd novel. I’ve written two previously, both of which were left to die an unceremonious death, stuff in a 3-ring binder, never to see the light of day again. This one, though, I have thought through. I love the characters. I…
A lot of times I start projects and set some goals and they evolve into completely different things. Then the goals dissolve. The feelings of failure set in. I am left wondering if I’m derailed or frustrated.
I’m really good at telling other people to give themselves grace. I’ve done so many things that mean so much more than a clean kitchen does. I know that. I understand that. There is a moment, though, where I’ve done a thousand things, but the one thing I ignored just stares me in the face and reminds me that I do not, in fact, have it together.
Killing Ghosts has been a hard process. It’s never easy to put yourself out there entirely. It’s scary and hard and I’m constantly worried what people will think. Or worse, that they won’t think about it at all.
When I was younger, I assumed that at some point I would know what I was doing. That when you got to a certain age you just…knew stuff? Now that I’m trying to write it, I’m not even sure what I thought that meant.
What if you are the only one to let yourself go there? What if there’s a reason you haven’t seen other people talk about this? What if this is entirely wrong and it falls flat? What if you fall flat?
We all have lists. The to do lists. The unending, rolling collection of things we have to do or need to do or want to do. The one that seems to get longer, no matter how many things we check off.