A Conversation…with Myself

 No one wants to read this crap.

 How can you call it crap? It’s your life thus far.

 But no one wants to publish it.

 You’ve only tried one publisher. How many times did JK Rowling get rejected?

 Yeah but she wrote Harry Potter for crikey sake. I’m writing about child abuse and mental illness and emotional growth. Ain’t no fantasy here. And anyway it’s two now.

 It’s not two yet. They said they’d contact by the 12th. That’s Monday.

 Yeah but they said they might contact earlier so…

 But don’t you think your words can help?

 Of course I do, that’s why I wrote it.

 So?

 Oh for goodness sake I don’t even know if I can write very well.

 SO? You had no reason to think you’d ever succeed at anything yet you did.

 This is different.

 Why?

 Oh a thousand reasons. I’m forty-seven not twenty-two. I can’t take the same risks now with a teenager to support.  

 You’re just chicken.

 Am not!

 Are so!

 Look, I think the books important. I just don’t know if my writing communicates as well as when I was counselling or teaching. You know I rely on non-verbals to balance my bluntness.

 Not to mention whether or not the average publisher cares less about how folks are emotionally travelling.

 Have you got faith in what you have to say or not?

 Yes…aren’t you listening? What if I’m just not saying it properly?

 One publisher, just one! Are ya gunna give up already?

 Don’t be ridiculous when do I ever give

 So then?

 Oh shut up!

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