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You must keep sending work out; you must never let a manuscript do nothing but eat its head off in a drawer. You send that work out again and again, while you're working on another one. If you have talent, you will receive some measure of success - but only if you persist.
--Isaac Asimov


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Saturday, March 19

What A Day!

I've been optimistic for my foray into novel writing. Deep in my thoughts was this wall. It kept telling me to get realistic. Real Life kept looming in my peripheral vision. Words were coming slower and slower. Yesterday, I decided to just go back to my hobby.

I didn't want to disappoint myself. I don't let my hopes soar anymore. I don't like getting back to reality. Really, it's logical. Don't like the morning after? Don't get crazy the night before. Same concept. Can't get rejected if you never try out.

This morning, I remembered the first dream since times best forgotten. My soul sent me a message. My story, start to finish. Oh, if only I had hooked up my DVD recorder to my brain last night! Then, it hit me. I had signed up for an outlining marathon over at Forward Motion for this weekend. 48 hours of outlining.

I wouldn't have the whole 48 hours for the challenge, but hell, who cares? A couple of short hours later, I had 64 notecards sitting in my lap. Each one had a one-liner on the front, expanded to a paragraph on the back. I put a rubber band around them and set them on my desk.

Do I get my hopes up? Why is it so hard for my to go back to my nice normal life? My gf, kids, work, knitting and various other hobbies used to be enough. My computer time was limited to surfing the web, and typing up poetry/stories I had written for fun. Isn't being a dyke, with a gf, with two boys, in Small Town, IL emotionally challenging enough? Let's throw some more fat into the fire.


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