There is no race with writing. We plant ourselves beside the fountain of God’s inspiration and drink deeply. Whatever flows from head and heart through pen is enough for the day.
At least this is what I tell myself when feeling poetic, inspired, and scared. To be perfectly honest, I procrastinate like the rest of those aspiring writers out there avoiding the scary stuff! Weeks passed since finishing my first manuscript and I still had not sent out inquiries to professional editors. Maybe it was the fear of hearing that my writing is not publishable after all the hard work.
I rationalized that this past week was a bust because of wild, disrespectful students who managed to drain the very life right out of me. Yet if truth be told, I had hit a seemingly impenetrable wall of fear barricading my path to publishing.
Today I somehow summoned courage and finally did what I dreaded. I sent out emails to several editors even though pushing that final “send” button made armpits sweat. I have avoided this step for some time until it has taken on a life of its own like a giant scary monster. Even as I wrote those emails, I thought my words sounded like attempts to pretend I was a writer.
Do I feel immensely better for having finally done what I was afraid of and therefore avoided? Not really! I am tired from writing all weekend, that’s all. I do, however, feel a bit proud of myself for having pushed through.