I'm Lots of Things . . .

but published, I ain't!
After reading these posts you're probably saying, "It's easy to see why," but your casting of aspersions won't deter me. The creativity that awakened last year after two decades of dormancy has taken on a life of its own.
Last year was one filled with milestones. I moved past fear of failure and the negative judgement associated with it and sat down to explore creative writing again. My first novel was created in 67 days and I submitted it to an agent within 60days of completion. Another less memorable milestone is that of my first rejection. However, I've got to let you in on a secret. The rejection didn't end my world. I didn't drop dead when the email hit my inbox. In a past life, i.e. prior to my new found commitment to writing, I would have been devastated by the rejection, nearly to the point of suicidal tendencies.
What was the difference with this rejection than those of the past? Me. Before I sat down at the computer the day I renewed my dedication to my art, I chose to write solely for myself. I'd be lying if I told you I don't want to earn income from creative writing; my wallet is as flat as yours. The decision to write solely for self-edification was the most liberating decision I ever made. It freed me from self-doubt. It didn't matter if my mother, a writer whose opinion I highly value, liked a piece or not. Or my husband. Or a literary agent's assistant, let alone the agent. It mattered that I put my ideas on paper. It mattered that creativity flowed from me again. It mattered that I told fear to 'fuck off.' It mattered that I succeeded in my own right. - Bethany Moran