I’ve taken the last 24 or 30 hours – not in a row mind you – to revise the final chapters of my novel. I’m feeling more and more confident about this endeavor every minute. Of course, there’s always that nagging in the back of my mind that no one will ever want to read it. That no one will ever want to buy it – but it’s the former that bugs me most.

I write to communicate. I write to relate. I write to understand and I hope that the readers I come across someday will be able to communicate with, relate to, and understand my writing as well as I do. I write to share myself. I don’t do that freely, especially not with just anyone. But I have to write, I have to express the ideas and emotions in my head.

Anyway, I’ve offered my baby to my first reader in all her “completed” glory. Now I just wait…
EDIT: I didn’t get the library position. A woman who used to (or currently still does, I’m not sure) work at the high school I graduated from got it. Honestly, I believe my age had something to do with it. There is not a person affiliated with that library (employee or board member) who is under the age of 30. Anyway, I didn’t get the job and I’m all the more determined that I am not supposed to stay in this town the rest of my life…. Ugh… Just, what do I do now?



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