Sometimes I found myself strapped into one of those blue economy seats, pointed straight up at the sky. Why do my airplanes always have an open fuselage? No matter the size of the aircraft?
|Photo by: Whaldener Endo|
I was dangling from a parachute, watching as my banana yellow biplane glided away from me, its Bear engine smoking and sputtering. I twisted in my sleep, disturbing my husband.
"What's wrong, Honey?" he asked.
I distinctly remember telling him: "I need to learn how to fly in airplanes again." before going back to sleep.
I haven't been writing much lately. The ITIN still isn't here, and with each passing day, I grow more anxious.
What happens if it isn't approved? How many times must I keep trying? SHOULD I keep trying? Is it worth all this stress? Will Her True Name and Chasing Monsters ever come to print? Or is all the time and money spent all going to go to waste?
I come home from work, thinking about yard work, washing walls and how very little energy I have to do either, never mind write. Is this all there is? To spend hours everyday in a tiny windowless kitchen while I suppress my dreams? Have I forgotten how to fly?
A year, maybe even six months from now, I'm going to look back at this with a smile on my face. I'm going to chuckle at my own doubt. I'll have my muse at my shoulder and another completed novel and/or novella. What's the use of telling new writers to persevere if you can't live by your own words?
Don't worry. As soon as that ITIN is in, the novella will be out. In the meantime, I'll still be writing, even if I have to do it in tiny, exhausted increments. Stand by for take off.