Today I’m starting a journey. At the end of said journey, I don’t expect I’ll find success or career or even praise. But it’s time to me to start failing in the right direction. It’s time to start failing doing what I love.

When I was just starting out on my writing career I believed I needed to perfect my work before sending it out. Each word had to be just right. And what happened was that I barely sent out anything. I’m lucky that many professors told me they believed I was a talent and could have a great career. No one told me I needed to get over my fear of imperfection to do so.

And then life happened. In a short amount of time I lost a cousin, a brother, a friend and a father. Not to mention my beloved dog Dixie. Each gone unnaturally soon. Then babies came and my life became happy and hectic enough that for a long while I was able to ignore how incomplete it was. It’s been six years since my last publication, when my story Salsaholico won Solstice Literary Magazine’s 2013 Fiction Prize.

So here I am, humbly. Life has knocked me down a few pegs although I know I’m luckier than many. It’s time I start failing in the right direction. I’ve learned that I’m a writer because it’s who I am, not because I’m successful at it. My only hope is that my work speaks to some and that my friends and family can know me more intimately. Also to quiet the anxious rustling of my heart.

An eternal thank you to my husband, which I will simply call L here, for his support and applause.