We're back from our trip to Nebraska and I'm filled with both gratitude and sadness. The grandiose part of myself always wants to go there like some kind of hometown hero. 
My old P.E. teacher would run into me at Safeway and gush about how she devours all of my novels and can hardly wait for the next one to come out. And, by the way, she's sorry for all of the dodge ball-induced P.T.S.D. style humiliations I suffered in my youth.
 I would chuckle shyly and shrug my shoulders. Aw, that's ok. It built my character. As far as the writing goes, those stories just leap from my brain like I'm taking dictation from my muse. 

It feels ridiculous and embarrassing to be disappointed when my hero fantasies don't materialize. In times like these, I have to cling to Rhonda Britten's advice to invest in the life I have to get the life I want.

 So that's what I'm doing this week: sending out the e-mails, writing the shitty first drafts, taking time from my delusions of grandeur to daydream about my grandiose characters.

Pat Schneider reminds me that we all have a story to tell:

"No one has seen the night sky from exactly your trajectory. No one has loved exactly the people and places you have loved. Who will tell that part of the Earth’s story, if you do not?"

Join us for an on-line or in person class and tell us yours.

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