“A cynic is a man who, when he smells flowers, looks around for a coffin.” -H. L. Menken.

I am tired of cynicism. It seems like every time I turn around someone is saying how impossible something is. Life is hard, no doubt. Nothing is easy and perfect, but how about focusing on all the possibilities rather than the difficulties?

I use to be a positive person. I could do anything. I could be successful at whatever I put my mind to. It wasn't conceit. It's that confidence that every modern mother wants to implant in her daughter. The world is her oyster.

That was then. This is now. Now, my greatest fear is that I am not good enough; that no matter how hard I try, I will be part of the masses stumbling over their own feet in the dark, beating my head against a brick wall that I can't break through.

Every (reliable) website I read about publishing makes it appear that being published is beyond realism. I have been so pulled in by this cynicism that I thought I'd keep this blog as a way to document every rejection letter... I bought three bottles of champagne: one for when I finish my revision, one for when I send out my first query, and one for my first rejection. I have steeled myself for it, psyched myself up for it, tried to look forward to it until I realized today that I have not allowed myself to think of the possibility of getting a request for more pages. After all, I can't control that, so why look forward to something that may never happen?

I hate cynicism. I hate that I have become a cynic, because that is not who I am.

Because sometimes looking forward to something that may or may not happen is what life is all about. I choose to see the flowers and look around for my camera.