The Crashing Tide

Manifest Mondays are where I chat exclusively about writing and the writing life.

I got word last week that my thesis for my MFA was officially accepted. I would’ve been devastated if they didn’t take it, but I was informed by my program director that the letter is basically a formality. I don’t even care; it’s still nice to be acknowledged!

My thesis was a story collection; some pieces were longer than traditional short fiction (my preferred weapon of war), but they all evened out. Actually, I almost struggled at the end to make it the correct length. I went sort of crazy during revision.

I haven’t read my thesis since I submitted it. Out of sight, out of mind, I suppose. I went back and read it this weekend, and I got lost in the stories. I vividly remember frolicking like a child in these playgrounds that I created, and how FUN it was.

I want that back.

That’s right; I have been so stressed out from my financial situation that I have not written anything worthwhile. I’ve done Morning Pages here and there, free writing or adding inspirational quotes to my everyday journal, hoping to break through. It’s not writer’s block anymore. I have plenty to say, but it seems counterproductive to harp on what I already know should be done. It’s the seizure of fear that is stopping me from writing.

In order to write, you need your basic needs covered. I don’t. I have no desire to write when I have the bill collectors are at my door. I never thought it would get here. We’re heading into June and my student loans are due. I’m scared out of my goddamned mind.

The creative life has never been the easy path. I wish it were. I wish all the sobering advice I had been given during my program worked out. It almost feels like there are forces greater than myself telling me to stray from the corporate world and stay on this creative path until it does work out. It’s worked out for every other writer in the world. How many more rejections must I bear before I get my break?

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