Abandoning the book I’ve been working on for the last 10 years. Inhale, delete folder, exhale. This isn’t the easiest thing I’ve done. I’m not even sure if I’m doing the right thing. But I know I must move on.
It could have been a masterpiece. Too bad.
Yesterday, I started working on a new novel. I don’t have the whole plot planned out yet, but I was able to draft the first chapter in one day. I sent it to friends to get some feedback. Five out of seven already replied. Not bad. They like where this is going. So let’s see.
Ever since I have accepted that I am not a “writer”, I’ve been writing more. I’m no longer a perfectionist, and I can now actually get things done. So far, so good.
Every time you kill a dream, a new one is born.