The Beast

The Beast wants you to stop writing.

The Beast lusts for failure, self-defeat, and destructive self-talk.

It is always hungry.

It tells you each rejection isn't just a rejection of your story, it's a rejection of you, the person.

The Beast lies.

The Beast will always be hungry.

It smells exhaustion and frustration and resentment and jealousy like a shark noses blood in the water.

But you can defeat the beast.

You win each time you submit a story, each time you have the courage to sit down in front of a blank screen, each time your pencil or pen touches paper. You spank the beast on the nose each time you write despite the odds, despite the reward, despite what anyone--including yourself--might say.

It's weak, really, this Beast. Weak and small and alone, and it wants you to feel that way, too.

It will always be hungry because it is a nothing, a hollow thing. Empty.

Read my post on Shimmer's blog about fighting the Beast with persistence.[image error]