(Why wouldn't I bring the celebration here? ;) Sorry, guys.)
All day I've been trying to get the latest on Poison by the late Bridget Zinn.
This story and day is very close to my heart. No, I wasn't one of the lucky people who met Bridget, but that doesn't change my attachment.
In 2006, I started writing every day all day. I had my very own laptop, a computer just for me. I had all the time in the world to do whatever. So I went back to writing stories and I was hooked.
Around that time, my aunt, my mother's best friend and baby sister, was fluttering like a butterfly over the sticky paper of cancer.
But in 2009, she was caught.
I can't begin to tell you how vibrant and full of life she was. And I won't start. The tribute would swallow this post and she deserves her own.
Fastforward to 2013. I'm kicking up story ideas, looking at years' old rejections on my email, feeling suffocated by the fact that yet again, I've failed to salvage a book I loved.
No, not salvage. I destroyed it trying to fix it.
As I thought of every moment I was wrong, a thought rumbled through me. What if I never get published?
What if I never write something I wholly love?
Does that really happen to real people? Did Disney fairytales and afterschool specials lie to me? Do people die never seeing their dreams come true?
I thought hard work got results.
I felt and I knew that if I didn't succeed, I'd be remembered for that. Worst, the people around me would have been right. I wasted my time for NOTHING.
I said nothing. Not to my closest writer/non writer friends. Not to nonjudgmental strangers.
I went through Twitter several nights in a row, celebrating and tearing up at #writergoodnews.
That's how I ran into the call for help promoting. "Eh," I thought. "I should look into it."
I clicked on the call for a blog tour and...well, I cried like a baby. This happy, gorgeous-smiled woman, young as my aunt, had been caught by sticky paper too.
And she'd accomplished what every writer dreams about but she didn't get to see it? How unfair.
Don't say life isn't fair. It's ridiculous.
I was swallowed by all the feels. Woo. Still swallowed by all the feels.
I signed up to help, spread the word, and kept on my toes.
I wish I hadn't known about Bridget (mostly because that maybe would mean she was alive and celebrating with us,) but I know and I care.
There are worse tragedies in life. Like leaving behind three kids or stopping at the beginning of a promising, joyful life.
So bear with me, guys. ;)
Also, check out my post the 15th (Friday!) about my First (rated PG, thank you.)