Who am I kidding? That I can write?
I ask myself these questions daily.
It's ridiculous, but I cling to my sister's high school speech teacher. When I was in 8th grade he read the beginning of one of my novels and was amazed by the strength of my written voice...
O, to be in 8th grade again!
I have never mourned my high school days, but when trying to play the part of a writer I do begin to long for those days with no responsibilities. All day could be spent reading and writing....
It is difficult as a wife and mother and student to find time for your imaginary world. It needs room to breathe, writers need room to daydream and wonder off in their thoughts.
Right now I am at school. As soon as I walked into the studio and flipped on the lights another student was behind me. And now more have followed. There is no solitude for my struggling voice this morning.
I'm beginning to miss my characters, having not written in two days now. Their voices and troubles are so strong in my thoughts. If that makes sense.
And again, I ask myself: Who am I kidding?