When I first started blogging back in 2012 I wrote this (now) hilarious post about viewing a new job as my second chance at being an adult. I was starting a new job, trying to move out of my mom’s house, and wishing/hoping/dreaming/praying that the new move would give me some kind of pathway forward. A year later, when that didn’t work out I wrote this post which was the beginning of me starting to think of myself as a writer. What’s clear to me in both posts, and in looking back at my early 20s, is that I desperately desperately wanted to know what I wanted out of life and I was scared to want anything that I wasn’t 100% sure I would get. This was true about jobs, about friends, about relationships. I felt like I was kind of up for anything and just wanted something to happen…
That is no longer my problem.
Sure there are still some things I feel very unsure about, but I know I want to publish a YA novel (preferably this YA novel). It is a scary thing to say, because that still feels like an impossible dream goal a lot of the time. But I can no longer deny that’s what I want for my future. I don’t have it and I might never get it, but I’m not waiting for it to happen to me. I’m trying to make it happen myself.
This summer I’ve really tried to up my game making this a reality. I’m writing on a stricter schedule. I’m networking more. I’m researching agents and editors and industry trends.
This has coincided with me trying to make goals in my personal life more of a priority. It’s really easy not to put yourself out there (or whatever lame cliche you want to use) when you are a writer because writing is a solo activity that can easily take up all of your free time. You always have the perfect excuse not to go out or push yourself out of your comfort zone. You can always be writing. I’m trying to change that. I’m seriously blushing right now just typing this, but I think I know more what I want and I’m trying to be less passive about seeking it out. In some ways finding someone I actually like, who actually likes me, who wants the same things as me feels way way less accomplishable than my writing goals … but still I’m trying.
What I want might change. It might become clear I’m not going to get it. Setting these goals for myself means I might fail. But right now this is where I’m at. And it’s a very new weird limbo to be in.