My Escape

            Today has been really good. For the last few days I’ve been feeling beyond stressed, and I didn’t know why. It was almost like there was a part of me that was gone, and I found myself slipping into an old and familiar state. I was depressed. I felt like I lacked purpose even though my days were filled with many tasks. I’ve had to look back over my old work a lot before I can release my books, and that’s okay, but something kept bugging me. I’ve been spending so much time editing old work that I never have time to create new work. This morning I woke up early and forced myself to write something new. It felt amazing, and I have been in a better mood ever since I did that. Writing has become my escape, and the characters in my stories have become my family. I think that I’m going to write new material every morning for at least an hour because that’s what puts me at peace. All of the editing and all of the effort is so someone else might love my stories, but my time to write is just for me. I can see the characters in an unedited and raw way that I know to be real. There’s no consideration of “if that could really happen” or “if that’s what someone else believes that my character would say” or “if there are too many repetitive words.” It’s just me and my characters in my world. All of that may sound strange to some people, but when I’m writing, I’m home.

            I’ve made another mistake lately, too. I originally wrote because it gave me an escape and it gave me confidence. Lately, I’ve started to pay attention to the expectations of others and even their criticism. I know that constructive criticism is good, but paying attention to all of the negativity and all of the expectations is a mistake. Whether my favorite characters and my world are loved, hated, or ignored by people, they have given me a gift that no other person could. They have given me comfort, confidence, and escape. They have shown me exactly what my value is to myself. That’s all I could have ever asked for.