Normally, I hate roller-coasters.  Sorry, just not my thing.  I loved them as a kid, but somewhere around nineteen, I developed a fear of heights. Too high and I get dizzy and my stomach crawls up in my throat.  So purposely going high, then falling?  Let’s just say the last person to talk me onto one, got a screaming ear full of cleverly placed four letter words the entire trip.  (Luckily it was late at night–only older teens and adults on it.)

Why am I talking about roller-coasters?

Being on submission is kind of like being on one–a long one– only the high parts are actually fun. 

That fizzy anticipation bubbles, puts a spring in my step and I dream of the possibilities.  Yes, I plan to write my butt off and turn this into a true career, but I’m still at the point where that dream centers around walking into a bookstore and seeing my book on the shelves.  Holding it in my hand.  I’ve done this with magazines I’ve been in in and yeah, that felt pretty cool, but somehow, I know the book will feel different in my hands.  Maybe because I’ve worked so hard for it. Carried around this dream more years than I care to admit.

I do have the days where I swoop so low, I can reach out and touch the ground.  But I’ve noticed lately a lot of those coincide w/personal, stressful days. The cool thing about this roller-coaster experience is… Even on the days when my mood could be considered nothing more than useless, I’ll have that little positive voice speak up as I crawl into bed. 

One that whispers, “Maybe tomorrow.”


“We have more possibilities available in each moment than we realize.”
Thich Nhat Hanh