One of the things I worried about, when I thought of starting a blog, was what to do with all of the difficult, painful feelings that can come up when you are a writer. Negative comments about your work, bad reviews, ongoing obscurity--the dark corners of the writing world. Then today I thought, well, just acknowledge them. There is no harm in being honest about the pain that accompanies failure, real or imagined. (I am pretty sure a different feeling accompanies success!)
So tonight I will just spend a moment in acceptance. That, in and of itself, can be a comfort.
Reading good writing, the kind that builds excitement in my blood, usually shakes me out of despair, but right now I'm in a ragged place between books, needing to put in time with some required reading for a project. As soon as someone tells me (or I tell myself) that I have to read a particular title, I immediately turn into two year-old throwing a tantrum, screaming, "No no no no no no no!!!!!!!!!!"
Instead, I will think of the baby box turtle I wrote about a few posts back, clinging to his tiny spot on the chilly ground in the dark. It's dangerous out there for him, too, yet he proceeds one step at a time. Maybe getting nowhere. Maybe getting somewhere.