Questioning my Sanity

Sanity as definied by

sanity [san-i-tee]


1. the state of beingsanesoundness of mind.
2. soundness of judgment.

I’ve never claimed to be sane. It doesn’t appeal to my sense of self. Since seventh grade I’ve identified with the wife in The Yellow Wallpaper creeping around her room and imagining herself in the garden and behind the walls.

And I believe every creative person is a bit nuts- we have to be to allow our imaginations to flourish.

And that freedom makes art.

My arts are writing and dancing. Can’t imagine living without them. My soul would die if I couldn’t. I love the days story flows, even the days it doesn’t, the line edits, the plot holes, and the doubt. I love searching for the right word, the right emotional cue, the raw core.

But I also have to cope with the negative parts of being artistic, too. The worst part is being told, “No.”

No sucks. No can make all my pages go blank and music stop. No makes me trip and stumble, creates doubt and erodes confidence. I hate that word.

I’m wading through a tide of, “You’re clearly talented, but no,” now while I query a book and essay. It makes me question the drive that keeps me writing every day. How do I want to do something so much that comes with so much rejection?

Should I write different kinds of stories? Are the ones I tell not a fit for the market?


No I should never stop being me or telling the stories I want to tell. I can’t imagine a time when I’ll stop exploring family dynamics in my fiction or delving into what people do in order to be loved- how we twist ourselves into shapes that no longer resemble ourselves to please another person. How some people think by doing something they want for another person will magically inform the other person to do that exact thing for them. I love exploring the value of love.

Hu…that’s ironic. Here I am all twisted up and wondering what shape my work needs to take, when it needs to remain the same. My voice. My stories. They matter

There is no choice. I’ll keep writing the stories inside me and help that creeping woman earn her freedom. And perhaps our story will resonate with you and keep you company on your bookshelf, too.


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