My post wasn’t in on time today. In fact, I sat down to write a post yesterday and started writing a a story instead. That story turned into two stories. So here’s the thing, I’m working two jobs now. Yeah, I’m working two jobs, I’m contributing to different sites (sometimes), I’m preparing to attend and participate in readings, I’m introducing, I’m blogging, I’m reading submissions, and I’m trying to be a good friend/daughter/girlfriend/sister/writer/reader/eater.
It’s all happening. Everything. Now. I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed, but exhilarated and like my life has purpose and this is just a rough spot, a beginning place, but things will get smoother more like combed cotton less like fresh-picked. I’m sure it will even out, when there’s less training more doing.
This is where I would say sorry that my post wasn’t on time. This is where I would worry that people are pointing and thinking “What else does she have to do? Why must she continue to be a slacker?” This is where I might not post anything at all out of fear of confirming what my brain voice says everyone already thinks about me. This is where I would apologize.
Only I’m not going to apologize, no way. Not because I think being busy means I can get away with not posting on time, not because I’m not worrying that somebody still thinks I’m just lazy, and not because my time is more valuable than anyone else’s time. Here is where I do not apologize because yesterday I wrote first drafts for TWO stories that I am incredibly proud of, and for the first time in a long time
I won’t apologize for letting something in me take over and remind me why I do what I do. I let something grab me by the throat and say “Write this down now or I will kill every other person in the room.” For a day, I paid a ransom for my words and I’m just so so glad to have them home where they belong.
So, yeah, not sorry. Grateful. Happy. Ready to be threatened again.