This writing journey I'm on changed drastically in the past week. Those of you who know me will be a tad scared to hear that my confidence has grown by leaps and bounds. But before, my confidence came from inside myself and that small, still voice. Now, I know that seemed to most of you like more confidence than a normal person should be allowed. But it grew and developed at a very slow pace. I found a journal from 10 years ago when I ruminate and agonize on calling myself a "writer." This was even after I'd spent years writing and editing for a newspaper. The word held so much meaning for me, to apply it to myself seemed irresponsible and foolish. But after stuttering to get it out for a long time, it finally began to trip off my tongue.
When things still stalled and rejections abounded, my ability to pretend took over. Keep writing, have business cards made up that say I'm an author, talk about writing like it's not a weird thing to spend my life doing, cry alone, complain to my husband, whine on my blog and finally ask God, if it's time to give it up.
This fall, every song on the radio seemed to talk about dreams failing, hopes vanishing and holding my head up anyway. Walking into the library or a bookstore found me swallowing deeply to keep tears from falling in public. I'd exhausted everything I could think of and even had a many published mentor say that to me. That was validation, but it also meant he couldn't think of a next step either.
And then the email from Cari, my agent. Driving was difficult because I felt I was drunk. My mind hasn't worked correctly due to this daze. Knee-buckling gratitude, mixed with delirious exhilaration and more than a tad of disbelief has driven me to distraction.
However, it's also put my feet on stone instead of mud.
Remember the scene in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom where in his quest for the Holy Grail he has to take a leap of faith? He has to leap into the abyss and only then will a bridge appear.
I feel as if I've been walking on air for all these years and suddenly solid rock is beneath my feet.
For each of us, it's our own personal journey and if you're still waiting for the solid rock to walk on, know that you only get there if you keep walking.