Notes to Self: I Want to be a Writer Who Doesn't Need Permission

I want to be a writer who doesn't need permission to tell my truth.

I received at least part of my literary training in the school of hard knocks. I hadn't traveled the path of life long before the dream of becoming a novelist took hold of me and wouldn't shake loose. I had to try.

The years sped by, and I grew into adulthood having devoured everything I could get my hands on about my chosen avocation, my passion, (dare I say?) my calling. Destiny, and my audience, awaited.

I received my first rejection and didn't write for a year. Obviously, I'd deluded myself into thinking I had anything important to say to anyone. I thought seriously about cleaning houses for a living, but eventually picked myself up and tried again, and this time I received a contract for a short story.

I didn't write for another year. What would happen when I became famous? Would people want more from me than I could give? Would they idolize me and then discover I had feet of clay? What had I gotten myself into anyway?

Despite my reservations, I gathered my fortitude and entered the fray again. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry when I received another rejection. I'd worried about fame, it seemed, without cause. My short story sale must have been a fluke.

I gave up writing altogether, not without relief. If I didn't try, I couldn't fail anyone, least of all myself.  But I couldn't ignore the inner voice that told me giving up already meant failure. Would I cede my dream without a fight?

For a time reality came down squarely on my neck in the form of motherhood and laundry and family expectations. What's a few castles in the sky compared to a house that needs cleaning? The siren call of my muse sounded faint amidst the din of daily living, but I heard and ignored her.

I don't mean to diminish the joys of a loving family, but when you don't live to fulfill your purpose, you go through life with something hollow inside. I'm grateful I've learned to stop letting the acceptance or rejection of others steer my course.

Notes to Self: In the same way acorns sprout into oaks, so fledgling writers grow into authors.

© 2010 Janalyn Voigt

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