June 15, 1999
Today, today is a red letter day for yours truly. Today feels like Christmas and my birthday and a bunch of other cliched holidays all rolled into one.
I now count myself as a 'real' writer.
Not that I've actually sold anything, not yet, but... I submitted my first work today. Just got back from the post office, as a matter of fact. I sent off a short story to Marion Zimmer Bradley's Fantasy Magazine. The story is called "At the Ocean's Edge", and I'm extremely proud of it. Kinda scared though, too, wondering if I'll ever write anything I'm as proud of again. Oh, I'm sure I will, but there's still that fear, you know? I've been so hyper all day, I'm surprised anyone can put up with me.
Everything feels like it has gone right today. Seriously. All the doubt and insecurity I was feeling before about who I am and what I 'do' is starting to dissolve. To quote a wise man I know, I'm learning to "separate my work from my real life". Writing feels like a very good 'real life' right now. It feels like something I can concentrate my heart and soul on, while I work to do what it takes to pay the bills. Who knows? Maybe someday I can concentrate on it full time, and I'll find that I can make a living off my writing. But for now, I don't want that. I want to focus on becoming the best writer I can, rather than on becoming the most marketable writer I can. One thing I've learned over the past few weeks is that the two are NOT interchangable.
I'm flying. I know it might not last... but I'm flying, and I love it.