First off, Happy New Year everybody! Every year I buy a journal and make new resolutions. In addition to trying to exercise more and save money, I’ve also resolved to write more on this blog.
I apologize that I’ve been absent for a while. I’ve been crazy busy cleaning my room because my brother came down for Christmas with his girlfriend and her two kids. During all of this, I was trying to finish up my second manuscript. I had already had my agent look at it and we both decided that it needed a lot of work before I sent it off to my editor.
But I did finished the second manuscript, which is entitled, Strut,. I sent it off to my editor a couple of days ago, which is scary because I know she’s going to have a lot of criticism about it. I want her to be honest because I want to release the best book possible, but it’s still difficult when she marks it up with a red pen, because it was such a huge part of my life for the last year and a half. With every suggestion she makes, I feel like an idiot for not thinking of it first. And I feel like she’s going to start to wonder if she made the right decision by buying my book. I worry that she’s going to see me as some country boy who got lucky the first go round, and who doesn’t really know anything about writing.
And that’s kind of ironic considering when I was growing up in Cow Island, I never felt like a country boy. It’s no secret that I wasn’t as rough and tough as my brothers or the other boys I grew up with. I didn’t enjoy being outside in the rice fields and crawfish ponds and felt like an outcast because of it. Which is why I moved away to the city as fast as I could. But when I got there, I felt like a country boy because people made fun of my accent and the way I spoke, and there was so much I didn’t know about the world. Being back in Louisiana now makes me feel like I’m stuck somewhere in between. And I’m not sure how to handle it. It’s kind of tough not knowing where you belong in this world.
When I started writing this blog entry, I planned on writing a story about my momma’s dog, Buster. But somehow it turned into a journal entry. Which is okay because if you good people are willing to give up your time to read something that I wrote, then I want you to know who I really am.
I don’t mean to come off sounding like a crazy, ungrateful, depressed person. I am very happy and grateful for everything that is happening. I guess I’m just a little scared and overwhelmed about everything going on. But thankfully, my family and friends have been very supportive and encouraging. And there have been great people like you who want to know what I have to say and what I’m going through. Hopefully some of you can relate and now know that you are not alone in this world.