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