Getting published is like having excitement run through my veins, reaching every little corner of my being. However, getting a poem published that may or may not be "good enough" is kind of like having both excitment and dread running around at the same time. A strange combination that gives me strange dreams and nightmares at night and leaves me exhausted in the morning.
Even if it is publication online, with readership of maybe 100, maybe more . . . it is still exciting and worrisome.
And the horrible thing about all of it is that I've been afraid to write much. Ok, I've journaled, I've fiddled with some of my writing, adding a chapter here, and doing some editing/wordsmithing there, but it has been like walking through muck, with each step being a matter of pulling my foot out of 12 inches of slimy mud, hearing that suction sound as I finally get my foot out and then plunging it back into the mire mearly inches further.
Of course, as I write that, some part of me thinks . . . hey, that sounds like fun. I hope it rains enough soon to get some mud like that. My kids and I love playing in the mud.
So maybe walking through deep mud isn't a good analogy for what it feels like when I can't seem to find any of the right words to write, because I'm both excited and worried about the words that will be published in just four days with my name attached to them. Hmm. Another analogy . . . can't think of one - the inner editor in me is on full, and the creative part of me is staying silent, hiding and waiting for this all to pass. And now, I just sound crazy . . . trying to use my imagination to make sense of it all . . .
Thank God that He has the big picture of the universe in his hands . . .
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