Yesterday was a special day for me. It marked two years since I signed my first ever book contract. That’s right. It’s only been two short years.
It’s amazing how my life has changed since that day. I’m not talking about professionally, even though that alone makes me shake my head in wonder some days. I’m talking about something deeper.
My friends have seen it, some have commented on it. My family certainly has. To paraphrase Bilbo Baggins, I have found my courage.
The courage I’ve found is facing my own inner monsters. Being able to trust my instincts, especially when it comes to my writing, and not rely so much on approval from others. Finding the place in myself to present the public image I see as me as an author. Facing demons from childhood traumas and breaking their grip on my life now.
Writing is deeply personal. Every author will tell you that. For me, it’s a form of therapy. I will put my characters into situations I’ve had to deal with. Granted, they’re more exaggerated, but they are there. And, in making it so they can overcome these same obstacles, I heal myself along with the character.
I no longer concern myself with trying to impress people from grade school who would call me names. Because I’ve done more than they would ever imagine, become a person they wish they could be. And, either through jealousy or their own insecurities, they’ll never accept that. It’s their issue, not mine. And I refuse to continue to try and please those who cannot acknowledge I am more than what they see.