Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Disappearing Act

I've had a difficult time, professionally, the past two weeks. There were some developments that made me seriously consider turning my back on my career. I don't think their exact nature is important, because what's damaging to one person would make another shrug their shoulders and walk away.

After multiple distressing things happened, I broke down and had a long cry. My husband reminded me that writing was never about publishing for me. I wrote because I needed an outlet. I'm an emotional person. I feel things very deeply. I'm not clinically depressed, but I've had my moments where I thought I might be able to understand what those who live with depression feel. I'd venture to say we've all had those moments.

Most of you know this (it's not a secret), but Megg Jensen is a pen name. I could so easily walk away from this career and never turn back. Few people would even know. Heck, most people in my real life don't know what I do. Those who do often treat it as a joke - like "give the cute little girl a pat on her head for writing a cute little story."

It would only take a few keystrokes and "Megg" would be gone.

In the last two weeks I've had to deal with some major shit. It's not even anything that will affect my sales or really anything that most of you have heard. It's behind-the-scenes junk that life occasionally doles out.

Yet it has made me doubt myself. Doubt my writing. Doubt my decision to self-publish. Doubt every single publishing decision I've made since December 2010.

On the other end of this doubt is a pinhole with a tiny light shining through it. That light is my imagination. No matter what anyone lobs at me, they can't break my imagination. It's always there, winking at me, telling me stories, forcing the most ridiculous ideas into my head. I know that my desire to spin a story will always be there. It's the one constant in my life.

Since the beginning of time, humans have told stories. Whether whispered over a campfire, glyphs drawn on the walls of caves, or a brilliantly illuminated medieval manuscript, one thing holds true - our lives are beautifully enhanced by narrative. I just happened to be one of those souls driven to share mine.

So whether people want to hurt me so bad that they hope "Megg" might disappear or be ashamed of self-publishing, I have to remember that little light at the end of the tunnel. It's not about the end of the race, it's about the experiences we have along the way. Life will not always be easy. People will not always be kind. Life will never be perfect and complete.

I just have to be the truest version of myself. <3