As I slog through writing another short story with hopes, dreams, and aspirations of becoming published one day, there is always that bothersome bugbear known as "self-doubt" in the back of my mind. Are my stories good enough? Do I write better than a fifth grader? Why am I sacrificing so much of my life to put words on paper?
The answer, I think, is that I need to dream big. I want to feel a connection with fans one day. I want people to say that my work mattered. I want my kids to be proud of me. Maybe this is some sort of ego fulfillment, but it is something I need to do.
So when I wanted to build two Pinewood Derby race cars for my boys this week, wanted to put some more finishing touches on the dollhouse I am building for my daughter, wanted to read, and love my wife, and bake things in the Easy Bake oven, and build Lego's, and try to be everything to all people, I NEEDED to write after all of the other things in order to keep my dream alive.
Because if I let my dream die, I think that will be the end.
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