Way back then, we were both aspiring writers, heavy on the aspiring. We would exchange stories and chapters and give each other feedback. This was before I really knew anything about writing, and I cringe now to think how bad my work must have been. Heck, I look at what I write today and I cringe to think of how much better it could be. (I also cringe to think what advice I’d offered him on his work. Yikes.)
Our brief chat left me in a bit of a funk. Because, you see, I’m not there yet.
You know. “There.” That hazy place just beyond my reach where all my dreams have come true.
It’s kind of a yucky mindset to have. Makes it tempting to just throw in the towel. Give up. Forget the whole thing.
So I spent some time taking stock of who I was then, and who I am now. Of how much I’ve grown in those passing years. Not just as a writer, but as a person.
I’ve come away with this:
Every day that I sit to write, I’m one step closer to There. But more importantly, I’m making the most of Here.
For today, for right now, that is enough.