I’m a Passenger In My Own Mind

I recently read an article about Higuchi Ichiyo.  To be all hipster and ironic, I would say that she was my spirit animal.  To be honest, I feel a strong kinship with her.

I have sold one novella thus far.  It is a piece that I’m proud of, a piece that stands as the proof that I can make it.  And yet.  And yet.

It is likely just human nature that any achievement is easily dismissed.  As we’ve been trained since childhood to prove our worth through what we do and how well we do it, we have to train ourselves to appreciate what we have done.

Though this is not so much a rejection of my previous achievement and more a discontentment with what I’ve been working on.  I don’t dislike the non-traditional romance.  I feel it’s important to normalize healthy interactions and behaviours within the genre.

No, this isn’t a question of genre at all.  I struggle constantly with the desire to write engaging stories, fun things and also this deep set need to write things with messages, things that matter.  Stories that speak deeply to the core of a person, that make you think and feel, and wonder.  I want to haunt my readers.  I want phrases, thoughts, characters, ideas to just pop into your mind and just mesmerize you over and over again.

I read a story quite a few years ago.  I don’t recall the name, the plot was good, but what really stuck with me was one particular scene involving children hiding.  To this day, the memory of that scene bothers me.  That is what I want to do to others.  I want that connection made to others, words that link me to you, each of you.  To every person who picks up one of my stories.

Desires, they run deep.

Reach for your stars, dear travelers.  May our paths cross often.