In Which I Switch to Imposter Syndrome Mode

Blogging about my sexcapades is bringing me down.

Oh, internet. You all sure seemed to be enjoying it. My blog views are up, but my my spirits are not.

Going back to these times in my life is a reminder of where I've come from. Now, I'm a happily married woman, in the most complete and satisfying relationship of my life.

It only took me until my late 30's to find him.

Thanks, universe.

I say that with some sarcasm, because why couldn't it have been earlier? I could have avoided so much pain (and literally avoided getting peed on.)

Hubs doesn't ~~care about~~ mind my sexy blog posts. That said, he doesn't want to read them.

He had a hard enough time with my novel. It's heavily inspired by true events, and some of that was hard for him as a reader. Mom just finished it as well. All she's said is that she's "still processing it."

He still 100% supports my writing and my story, in the way that I've told it.

About 1/3 of my queries are back.

1 partial request

18 rejections

and the partial turned into a rejection.

So, I'm over here full of imposter syndrome, wondering if my book is worthy of even hybrid publication.

But, guys. I think it is. Deep down.

I'll be starting my MFA program at Spalding next month. Think I can get my head out of my ass enough to dive in and learn and exude confidence?

I'll be damned if I can't do the first two.

What keeps you going when you feel like a failure?

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