I’ve been hiding out from the writing world. Obviously. I’ve needed to distance myself from industry news, from being immersed in a world that I wasn’t sure I was meant to be a part of. I’m still keeping my distance in some cases. My writing inbox has nearly 3000 pieces of mail I have never looked at. I haven’t looked at Miss Snark in months. My issues of The Writer and Writer’s Digest get tossed aside, unread. My feelings were too bitter, too angry, to be healthy. And they have to potential to turn back, so I will keep myself distanced until I feel healthy enough to deal with everyone’s good news, successes, and trials and tribulations.

I’ve been working as a copy editor at Zaner-Bloser. I’ve had the opportunity to read some fantastic books, and also read many different writing styles. Sandra Cisneros. Lois Lowry. Edward Bloor. As I gobbled up novel after novel, I felt that familiar tingle in my gut. The frantic searching for a paper and a pen so I could jot down ideas, techniques, and sketches. Plots, characters. I’ve found myself writing, almost against my will. False starts. Books that get to 5K and lose their fizzle. I fill up pages and pages with notes, but I’m not sure what to do with them, yet. The ideas come, but I’m scared about where they’re going, so I just write them down. For once, I’m not going to force myself to think I NEED to do something with them right away. In the meantime, my paper journals have been filling up. My mind is constantly churning. And that’s okay. One step at a time.

My personal life has been in upheaval like whoa. Probably reasons I NEEDED to step away from writing, reasons I haven’t sold, because I’m really NOT ready to devote to my career like I need to if I want the exposure/success I need. I hope I will by mid-2007, but we’ll see.

There is a such thing as trying too hard. I won’t let it happen to me again.

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