A letter to myself: Chill out

Dear Me,

I don't like what you're doing to me. It's Halloween and you're not even letting me enjoy the candy. You're gobbling it all down in a nervous, sugar-induced craze, so preoccupied that you won't even allow me to TASTE the sweetness.

Look, I know you're stressed out right now. Man, do I ever. But it's not the end of the world. You aren't as crappy a writer as you think you are. You're still pretty young and you managed to land yourself a job that gets you published.

I know you're having second thoughts, it may not be the kind of writing you want to write, and you could be right in that there is not one single publication that would deem you cool enough to write what you want for them. Blog programs notwithstanding.

A little positive thinking couldn't hurt right now.

So put the Twizzler down. Put the Twizzler down. You know it's for the trick-or-treaters.

What I think you need to do, for the sake of the both of us is just calm down. You're not so bad. Things don't always work out right away. You don't just become a great writer overnight. You may just need a little more practice.

And if you don't mind my saying so: Perhaps the writing isn't your problem. Perhaps it's that naggy, negative voice that you're always listening to. You know, the one that's tuning me out.

So please. I live here too. Chill out.

Sincerely,
Myself