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not knowing

Have you ever wanted something so bad you could taste it?

I've felt that way a few times in my life, probably few enough that I could count those wants on one hand.

I want to write, and I've known that for a while. It wasn't something I grew up wanting--I always wrote, whether it was a journal or a story, but writing wasn't something I thought I would want to do.

Partly because writing isn't the steady, dependable, respectable job I figured I would have. It is flighty...artsy...basically everything my analytical mind told me was a bad choice for a career. Here I am, though, getting ever closer to what is definitely a good career choice, and more and more I find myself wanting to write.

I write during my lunch break, tucking myself away in a corner with a good cup of coffee, a pen, and my notebook (yes, the paper kind. For some reason I'm still not a computer person for the most part), and I forget about the real world and lose myself in a dream world of good versus evil in the clearest sense.

Despite that, I hadn't really realized just how much that dream means to me.

Until today, when I got yet another form rejection letter.

This one came from DAW Books, and it was the first answer I got from someone who actually had the chance to read my story and not just a query letter. That made it different from the email ones I've gotten, though I'm not sure why.

I'll be honest--it hurt. Their words were kind, assuring me that they had turned down manuscripts from people who went on to be published by other houses and that some of their top authors had been rejected by other publishers before landing a contract with DAW.

But really, that didn't ease the blow for me. And in that moment I realized just how much I want this...so much more than I can put into words. I'm trying to put it into words here because I'm nothing if not a words person, yet I can't for the life of me find the words for this. There's an ache deep down, somewhere between my heart and my gut, something I can't ignore, but I can't wrap my brain around it tho come up with anything even half way intelligible.

Yet I've heard so many times that sometimes God closes a door, and I'm wondering if that's what this is--a closed door. I've begged and cried and pleaded with God to show me if I'm wasting my time, to let me know if this is something I'm just supposed to let go and move on from. To tell you the truth, I have no idea.

Right now the hurt is fresh and the wound is raw.

...so I default to writing, because I don't know what else to do.

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  1. Bob StapletonApril 20, 2013 at 11:57 PM

    I hurt for you Mandy it has to be hard. I also think you are a writer and I can't imagine it not coming about some day. Be strong, be patient and continue to follow the Lord.

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  2. Kim@womaninthemid.comApril 22, 2013 at 4:15 PM

    I understand what you are talking about. The day someone in my life said "things you don't get paid for are called hobbies." Sigh. This writng things sure doesn't feel like a hobby!

    ReplyDelete

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Thoughts? I would love to hear them!
~Mandy

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