I Am Not A Scholar. I’m A Storyteller.


Lately I’ve been having a lot of ups and downs. Not only relating to my book but also just in my day to day life. I’ve been a bit emotional. I’ve been a bit sensitive. I’ve been a bit anxious. Usually all of these emotions are pushed down deep inside where I keep a strong grip on the reigns and when they start to pull away, I slap on a feed bag or just retreat into my own thoughts and maybe even write it all down.

Ever feel like a human pin cushion?

Yeah, that about sums it up

Have I lost my optimism? No. Have I lost my focus? A little. Am I worn out, whooped and feeling like I’ve been rode hard and hung up wet? Well, just a tad. As my good buddy Seumas Gallacher would say, “…Rule #37…never, ever, take yerself too seriously, Mabel…#TBSU…

I think we’re all looking for something and some of us look in and some look out. I’m not easily intimidated and I rarely feel in any way insecure but in the back of my mind lurks just one thing that nags at me like an old fish wife; I didn’t go to college and I don’t have a degree in anything.

I’m just a storyteller. I’m JUST a storyteller. No wait…I AM a storyteller. I’m a scholar of life. I don’t have a diploma to prove I’ve accomplished something. Since I learned to read and write…I’ve been reading and writing. I’ve been living my life. I believe our paths lead us to where we aught to be and if a wall goes up, go around it or knock it down, which ever suits you. Just don’t give up. Ride the highs and the lows with an equal investment in the outcome and own your choices. I walked around a lot of walls and knocked plenty down too.

I’ve done a lot of living Mr. Thoreau. Thank you for the validation.

I can’t blame anyone but myself for this nag. I am over regretting it though because I proved to myself that to be a storyteller, you don’t need to sit in a classroom for four years. It can’t hurt that’s for sure but with imagination and a good helping of blood, sweat and tears, you too can experience the stress and angst of publishing your first novel.

I can promise you this much though…it ain’t for sissies. As much as some will adore your work, others will cut you up like Dexter and say things about your book that make the Wicked Witch of the West look like Glenda. I told myself today to go ahead and pout for a few hours and feel sorry for myself but when I was done, I had better be thankful that what I always wanted actually happened. I MADE it happen. I spent sleepless nights and hours upon hours telling a story that I imagined. I breathed life into characters and created my own world. I struggled and researched how to make it happen and rejection be damned!

I told myself, “you never gave up. You never once allowed a negative thought to enter your mind to tell you that you couldn’t make this happen”.

You ARE a storyteller. Deal with it.

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