You only ever get to write your first book once. You only get to be undiscovered and innocently unaware once. There is beauty in the struggle of the beginning. The stage of any career. The years that seem to us all to be an endlessly tormented eternity of blissful passion, hope and faith. However, life never allows anyone to become truly ever sure of anything. Unless you subscribe to the “death and taxes theory”. For just as we begin to take for granted or become too comfortable with the talent we have, the work we’ve completed or our clarity as to why we write. The winds of change will begin to stir blowing fate across our destiny. Most hope that when we take account of our new surrounding included is a contract, an agent, a publishing deal, a real name, and a status among the literary elite. Ensuring the lasting legacy of all you ever wanted to share with the world.
Everything you have always wanted, wished and worked for. Everything you had always known about your craft, your talent, and your goals finally living out loud. Wildly dancing to the rhythm of the world. Your words doing all you ever, ever wished they would or hoped they could. Your words being shared and illuminating the message of your soul. The purpose of it all. The need that gave you strength. The courage of a dream without limits and the faith to commit to the impractical and hold-fast to the intangible.
TO BE CONTINUED……As always fragmentary and incomplete and unpolished #GREEN