I think the people living in my head had a private meeting. They've been awfully quiet these last few days. But, slowly, one lone voice has emerged. She's quiet, but persistent, repeating the same things to me over and over. I must tell her story.
I understand so much more about my writing now; about its purpose and my purpose in life. There are questions I'd love to ask other authors, sort of to compare our experiences. Do they face the same kind of challenges and obstacles I'm facing? I had a rather enlightening weekend, but now I wonder just how unique my experiences are.
I may have mentioned before just how stubborn I am. It's not really something I do on purpose. I have a regrettably rebellious nature. It served me well in school when everyone was trying to be like everyone else and I asked "why" but now it's different. I'm trying to follow my chosen path as an author, do what I know I should do, and I still can't quiet that rebellious streak.
But I'm trying. And I'm just stubborn enough to succeed at this.