This Is Me

I’m a 30-year-old wannabe writer. There isn’t much to tell right now.

I’ve been published in my school’s publication Skelter.

I’ve finished a full-length novel that ended up going nowhere.

I may not have any real publications or credits to my name, but I’m still moving forward.

However, even when I feel like nothing is going my way I remember something I said to my best friend a few years ago.

“There are days where I have no idea why I still plug away at this, where I doubt it will ever be anything and I will have just wasted years of my life, and thousands of dollars doing this, but I love it so much so how can that be a waste.”

So how can that be a waste?