I had a ten-plus minute stretch where I felt like I sucked. With the three-hour time zone change and diverting from my routine of meeting people in person, I made multiple scheduling mistakes that plummeted my self-confidence. Sure, everyone was understanding because people are, but I wasn’t.
My favorite session was with a fellow writer whom I asked, “So when’s the last time you wrote?” Their eye-rolling and memory bank search were all I needed to shake my head in disapproval.
“But,” they started, “What if I’m not actually a writer? What if that’s the problem?” After hearing the amount they’d talked about writing in the past two years, I wasn’t buying it. “Sounds like the REAL problem is you’re a writer who isn’t writing.”
I’m a writer who writes, and I know this isn’t my most masterful post. But I’m here, and that counts. Check.
Gotta go. I’m tired and there’s a movie on.
Love, Jaclynm
Going On 40 