Merry Samhain!
Let's talk about death.
Seems appropriate, doesn't it? Here we are, the veil between this life and what comes next is at its thinnest, spirits are restless...death seems like a fitting subject to tackle today. But the kind of death I want to discuss isn't physical; it's the death of dreams.
I grew up in a blue collar family and was told on many, many occasions to "get my head out of the clouds". When I spoke of doing something creative for a living, something in the arts, the response I often heard was, "You need to do something constructive." It was difficult hearing these things, especially being the unbearably stubborn dreamer that I am. So I tucked my dreams away and tried to forget them. But writing never forgets--it's a disease. It calls to those who would write. It hungers for their pen. And, after a long time fighting it, I finally gave in and I'm now on that dreamers' road to quite possibly nowhere.
A short time ago, I let the echoes of the past creep in and warn me that I should get my head out of the clouds. Filled with doubt, I considered giving up writing for good. I was fully prepared to walk away, to let my dreams die, to ignore the call of writing forevermore.
But then I was asked for advice by a fledgling writer who was on the verge of giving up as well. I told her she couldn't--that she could never, ever, ever give up. Not if writing is really what she loves. Not if she can't imagine a day without stringing words together on a page. I realized that I had slid dangerously close to a place I swore I'd never visit--I'd almost wandered off the path to writing success and that, my minions, is a terrifying experience.
So tonight...watch out for cars as you trick or treat; keep a fire extinguisher nearby the bonfire; pay tribute to those that have passed on; and never, ever give up your dreams.
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