So I decided that I would announce my departure to all tens of you who still are interested. Then my insecurities flared up and started whispering about how absolutely no one would care and WHY do you think your navel gazing tendencies would interest anyone etc. Let me tell you, being inside my head is just not good for anyone involved. I don't really recommend it. How self-absorbed ARE you, Rebeccah? Seriously. Gah. See? Not good.
Then it was yesterday. And in not one, not two, but three different places things like this happened:
"You fail only if you stop writing." ~ Ray Bradbury's post. She is a lovely southern fiction author who is currently stumped on her next book adventure.
Then this from my Internet soul sister Glennon at Momastery:
"Dismiss the voices of perfection and competition. They are loud but quite unenlightened. They’d have you waste your entire life."
And finally this from my literary hero Cheryl Strayed:
"Going through a drawer I found the submissions/applications log I've kept off and on over the years. Just in case you think it's all been roses I'd like to report that Yaddo rejected me (as recently as 2011). McDowell rejected me. Hedgebrook rejected me twice. The Georgia Review rejected me and Ploughshares rejected me and Tin House rejected me, as did about twenty other journals and magazines. Both The Sun and The Missouri Review rejected me before I appeared in their pages. Literary Arts declined to give me a fellowship three times before I won one. I've applied for an NEA five times and it's always been a no. Harper's magazine never even bothered to reply. I say it all the time but I'll say it again: keep on writing. Never give up. Rejection is part of a writer's life. Then, now, always."
Hmm. I begin thinking to myself that maybe, just maybe, these are signs that I am heading down the wrong path by wanting to pull the plug on my blog. Which, by the way, is OLD in internet years. I am an online granny at the ripe old age of 7. This is both good and bad because I see others who have huge, thriving blog communities that have been doing this for two or three years and I think, what the hell. I am considered by most to be a decent writer with an honest and compassionate "voice", so why them and not me? I don't really know. What I want/ed most for this blog is to be a community. I am not worried about making a living on it. I just want to talk with people and share ideas and information. And yes, sometimes talk about our feelings and big important life things. Oh, and books too. Especially books.
But that hasn't happened. And I cannot really figure out why. And that is partially what brought me to the place where I was at the beginning of this post. And last night when I went to sleep, this was all very heavy on my mind. But here is the dream I had, and this is a big deal to me, because I rarely remember my dreams at all, let alone dream in color.
I'm on my way to feed the horses at LEARN and I have stopped to have something to eat at some random place. The server is at the table next to me and when I look over at her, it is Glennon. I of course react ridiculously and immediately crush her tiny self with a huge hug and insist that she leaves her waitress job to come with me to feed and pet the horses. So, we go do that and the day is beautiful and we have a wonderful time. On our way out, she takes a phone call and says, "oh, my friend Jenny The Bloggess wants to meet you." At this point I woke myself up because my dream car driving was getting a little unsafe due to my level of hysterical excitement.
Now. I'm no shrink but I awoke pretty sure my subconscious is all, "Awwww hail no you big sissy! Sit. Your. Punk. Ass. Down. And. Write. Something. NOW." Yes, I do believe I will.
Thank you, Yesterday, it was just what I needed.