Too critical of myself and my few ideas, I fear pitching stories. The ideas come so few and far between for me and I want to know that I can get a gig, any gig from a paper besides the publications I have good relationships with. I realize that though I am so thankful of the full time job I have now, I don't want to do it for the rest of my life.
How screwed up is this--I spent hours researching and writing not one, but three pitches that went out for my day job. Pitches on their behalf. And yet with me, I can do little more but even put the motivation into perfecting any one of the half-dozen I've started.
ENOUGH. It's time to move forward. Whether out of fear I dread doing so doesn't matter. It's time for me to stop relishing my tender heart so much and toughen up a bit. It's time for me to realize that I have to live harder than I have. It's time for me to keep my eye on the prize, because the prize has slipped from mine eyes' focus a bit. It's time for me to face rejection square in the eye, to stop criticizing myself and to just do it; to prove that no matter how many times someone says they don't want me, or want to see me for a subsequent date, or don't want me to pitch a story or write something as grand as I can dream it, I will keep moving forward. After all, I'm the horse that though bloodied in a fight with a rival, will return, running full tilt into certain pain. I am the thing that gets caught in the barbed wire and chooses to thrash around even though I know it will cut even deeper.
So it's time for me to cut deep and to finally, through all the pain, get to where I most want to be. After all, I'm CEN and there's never been a time that I've backed down when someone's told me to. I'm the woman who would do something the long way just to spite her father when he would tell her what she should do.
Damn it to hell--no one's ever going to tell me I can't do something or that I need to back down.
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