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After two months of sappy, feeling sorry for myself, I've finally got my grove back. It started with a small success.
Backstory: I've been working on this novel for about six years. It started as a short story that grew into a full length novel. But for the life of me, I couldn't figure out an ending I was satisfied with. I didn't know how to end the damn thing, so I let it sit and sit. I wrote an iffy ending, and I started the submission process. Then after two months and a half (that half counts), I got a full request.
Yeah...I could've beaten myself because, well, I was still unhappy with the ending. So I went back and reread the whole thing and sat my butt down to finally write the ending...and I fell in love.
Falling in love is both good and bad. Love can make one blind to faults. But at this point I didn't care. It reminded me why I love writing and what I've been missing for the past two months as I wallowed in life's challenges. It felt real good to fall in love again.
As I wait it out, I find that love of the story outweighs the feeling of fear, the sting of rejection, and the despair of waiting. I can live with that.