A week ago, I quit. I was done with writing. Honestly. The last straw was a rejection that seemed a bit holier-than-thou. So, with many tears, I told the Hubs that I was going on hiatus.
My heart was sad, but my brain was frustrated. How do I get my stories out to the young adult readers if I can’t get a response from those with the ability to move me forward? And yes, I’ve been told over and over and over to be patient.
But the teenagers and young adults I’m trying to reach aren’t getting any younger. And neither am I.
I figured a break was what I needed. Work on my 1963 Bug. Finish some other projects I’ve put off. Maybe God would show me the direction to go. And at 6:05 p.m. last Monday, that was my decision.
And a random Facebook message popped up:
Who was this person? Which one of my critique partners gave out my story? In high conspiracy fashion, tin foil hat firmly in place, I kept my response short:
The next message caused me to burst into tears. Hubs was confused, so I lobbed him the phone because I couldn’t talk through the sobbing laughter.
Yup. God, once again, kicked me in the butt with His “I told you so.”
Thank you Christian Women Writer’s Club! At 6:42 p.m. last Monday, I started writing again.