Feeling free...

Two blogs in one day! A record for me, but I can't help it. I am about to start writing my pages. I write better at night when my entourage is asleep. I'm free to listen to inappropriate music, watch naughty TV shows that are filled with swear words and be totally free of guilt. After the rejection yesterday, I gave myself a pass on doing pages. Now I'm behind, but that's okay. I feel no guilt. Sometimes, you have to take a break to be able to be creative. I wrote out my disappointment here and shared it with a very dear critique partner. And even though it was just a long-winded email, I felt better for sharing my experience with someone who knows the pain of the writer's journey.

This morning, I took the opportunity to call a friend about her writing. We discussed her work, which was damn good. She too is striving to challenge herself, which is why she decided to take a chance and let me be the first to see this particular piece. I felt honored as I know what it's like to expose one's self in such a way. I feel more naked in sharing my writing than I do unclothed. A body is just a body--skin, flesh and fat. But writing is an expression of a person's soul. Because most of us don't share our true selves with people, to do so in a way that may potentially touch the lives of many is just so raw. Anyway, I digress. Her work was brilliant, but she was afraid it was crap. Even went as far as to warn me of some really bad spots, which incidentally didn't feel bad to me.

So much of her work took me back to some of the less pleasant memories in my past. There was so much pain and real tragedy in the writing. Great symbolism. My God, it was gut-wrenching. I look forward to seeing the final product, and to seeing her name in lights. It will happen. She thanked me for being honest and for being a safe place to be so exposed. Again, what an honor. Later, I went to my critique circle to see what people thought about some chapters in my recently rejected piece. One critiquer thanked me for an entertaining read. And that was when I knew, or reaffirmed my goal in writing. I want my readers to get lost in reckless, unmitigated pleasure. I want them to laugh, cry and laugh again because of something I wrote. I want women to draw closer to their friends because they recognize their friendships in my story.

As if that wasn't enough wonderfulness. Yes, I know that's not a real word. The reading partner I emailed wrote me back. Some people were just born to build others up. A long time ago, when we became critique partners we agreed to be harsh when necessary and to cheer each other with wild abandon when either of us found the chips were down. She is amazing!!! Words are not enough to express how much her letter meant/means to me. I wasn't anywhere near giving up. That's not in my vocabulary. Never has been. I had lost focus, and she helped clear my perspective. I wrote back and explained why I was reeling from the rejection, and when I read it, I realized why I write. I can't not do it! It is my therapy, my escape. Those characters are friends, and their stories are my temporary adventure outside my own.

What do you do when you need to escape?