So another BYU alumna has published a novel. This one I actually know. Not that she’d remember me, but I had two classes with her, one with her now husband, and her husband’s brother once had a crush on my best friend. If that isn’t a close relationship, I don’t know what is.
Here’s the problem. It makes me so jealous. My first thought is, "Yea, someone like me is published." My second thought is, "I’m so mad that it’s them and not me." My third thought is, "But you’re retarded and never even write." And that’s my last thought because I make myself stop thinking about it.
In the last year or two there have been four or five different LDS or BYU alumni that have come to my attention with a new book. They are all about my age. They are all living my dream. Or at least I assume they are because other than the published writer thing, I know nothing about them.
I’ve wanted to write as long as I can remember. Yet it’s just like school was for me. If I don’t study for the test, that can be my excuse for when I ultimately fail it. If I don’t write, that’s my excuse for never being published. Not that fact that I’m crap at it.
So with each new person who is sort of like me that gets published, I get a little more encouraged, a little more discouraged, and a little tiny bit motivated. We’ll see where that leads us.