There is one word that I never have allowed in my house. Failure. Why? Because just by trying you have succeeded. Sounds simple, doesn't it?! But it's true.

I started writing when my daughter was a year old. I'd always wanted to write, and had excelled at it in high school. But life happened, and it wasn't until a friend mentioned to my mother that there was going to be a local writer meeting that I decided to let go out the tight hold I had on my muse.

It took twelve years and tons of hard work for me to become published. I had tons of rejections during the years, but I actually sold 2 books within a year after all that waiting. Still, it wasn't quite what I had envisioned. I'd expected to consider myself a success. Yet, I didn't quite as if I had accomplished my goal. The books did less than marginally, and while I had succeeded in becoming published I realized that I still had a very long way to go. I had learned how to write. I had learned how to find my voice and put the stories in my head on the page, but I hadn't learned how to think bigger than page in front of me.

To say that I stumbled, would be an understatement. I did set some newer, more conservative goals. Because I'd always been painfully shy, I decided that now was time to tackle that particular demon. Not only did I speak at my local writer group, but I eventually went on to speak at local and national conferences. I found that I loved the idea of inspiring others.

But while I was teaching I was not writing as much. Somehow, in the back of my mind I had let a new fear take root. The fear that I couldn't do it again. With published writers there is something known as second-book-syndrome. The idea that it is harder to sell the second book, than the first. But I'd convinced myself that I had missed that by contracting out two books with months of each other.


The fear became even greater, and as it progressed it managed to suck the joy out of writing for me. This coupled with the anxiety that came from Hashimoto's managed to make my writing almost non-existent. I did publish again. This time as an Indie Pub and found the experience much more freeing than I'd had going through a traditional publisher. I'd even changed genres, going for a gothic romance feel. But I again ran into the demon of failure. Could I continue on when something that had once been so easy for me had suddenly become painful?

It has taken me a year to tackle this fully. I have notebooks of started pieces. And I have finally found some peace within myself in order to create. That's a whole other blog dealing with the process of creation. Suffice it to say, I am not looking to come back to where I was, just hoping for a new, better destination.

The demon of failure? He stands in silent vigil, just outside the realm of my imagination. But just taking action is enough to banish him for the time being. 

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