How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. So says a romantic.
But like a fat girl in the bleachers, crushing on the jock in the football uniform, I'm sitting on the sidelines, wondering if it will ever happen for me. Publishing that is, not love.
I've had a few days where the doubt crept in, sideswiped my momentum and left me shivering in a ditch, my imagination going wild with all the possibilities of what might not ever be rather than of the stories I should be writing.
But then a small light began to shine and a voice sounded in my ear and said "What, you didn't really expect this to be easy did you? You'll make it, stop being such a whiner."
Aaahh, the comforting words of a big brother who knows well enough not to sugar coat, and yet still drag me out of the ditch full of muddy water. Thanks. I needed that.