Now I’m Ready.

I did it. I wrote. I finished short stories. I wrote poetic prose. Some shitty stuff. Some stuff I’m proud of. I got paid for my writing. I finished a novel. I was included in an anthology. I sat in writers workshops with IV leaguers and successful authors. I took a dozen college courses.

I have more successful monthly views than someone who’s considered a “professional.”

Say it with me…

I am a good writer. I am good at writing and communicating in a way to get people to listen. My editing skills are fantastic. My confidence as a writer grows more and more everyday and so does my ability to say, you will respect my craft.

This is no one’s dream to give me. I worked my ass off to be the writer I am today and I will continue to write because that’s the only way I know how to navigate the world. When there’s nothing left for me to do, writing it is. Or sleep but this post isn’t about sleep.

I’ve fought long enough to find my backbone as a writer. Now I’m ready.