Hola readers!
I don't think I've updated really anyone except close friends and some of my family or my current writing journey and where it's taken me. My sister Korin even informed me that she's mentioned to people I thought knew about my book goals, didn't even knew I'm a writer. For an aspiring author that isn't what you want to hear, because you want people excited to read your book, to know you're a writer and anticipate one day seeing the manuscript on bookstore shelves.
I guess when it comes to writing I'm an introvert. I don't like to shout out, "hey, this is me. I write."

I didn't know why that is. I mean, so many other aspiring authors let the world know who they are and what they want. Countless bloggers I follow have a page dedicated to their WIPs, blog posts filled with writing advice from time to time or character Q&As and the like. It's just not me to go about and advertise. I'm just not good at that and that's not why I chose to blog. I like to speak about hard-to-touch topics. It's not wrong to want to do otherwise...it's just not me.
But I had to ask myself why I'm not more open to let people I meet know that I'm writing a book, why I hate it when immediate family tell others that I'm writing a book. What's wrong with that? Why shouldn't I be proud of my goals? I am...I truly am. I love what I do and I'm truly  (mostly) confident that I'm where God wants me. But why am I hesitant to tell others about what I do when they ask?

Because I'm afraid of failing.

It's so simple, yet I never took the time to admit it to myself. Its's why when the lady cleaning my teeth at the dentist asks, I hang back. It's why I don't openly talk about my books to anyone but the people I live with and my closets friends. It's why I don't blog that much about it.

I'm afraid of failing.

I'm afraid that this will be for nothing. That the query letters and one proposal I sent out over the last week or so will be for nothing. That the spare minutes I had in High School I spent on writing will be for nothing. That the countless hours I spent editing will be for nothing. That even the ocular migraines from staring at the screen for so long will be for nothing. I'm afraid that I will get so close to reaching for my goal and it will all be for nothing. That this last year or so that I wasn't a student in college, will be wasted. That the time I could have been gaining credits at my community college will be for nothing. That the time I spent typing away could have been spent looking for a job.
I don't want to to sound heroic, that I've sacrificed so much for the sake of the hopes that I will be an author.
I'm not.
I've spent so much time in worry, doubt, fear - probably more time worrying then praying if I want to be honest. And I have prayed. I don't think I could have made it this far without prayer because it's so easy to give up, to say this will be for nothing.
I can't imagine me being anything but an author, a writer. I live and breath stories, fresh characters and plots. When I'm not writing them, I'm reading them.

And that one proposal that I sent out the other day? It was sent to a small publishing company, one specifically looking for YA fiction...the genre I write. They're looking to develop a line of YA and it gives me a little hope that they might, just might, consider me.
But I'm learning that I can't put my trust in anything BUT God. I just can't, even though I want to put all my faith in this publishing house. They might not say yes, and what will I do then? If the query letters go unanswered and the money keeps very slowly dwindling from my bank account as I try to save - what then?
I honestly don't have that many agents to seek out...those three letters I sent were the only ones I could find.

So I don't know.

I'm at a place, right now, where my only dependence, the only Person I can rely on, the only one who I can trust, who can truly tell me it will all be OK and can be me what I truly need... who's given me this desire to use writing as my ministry, is

God.

No one else.