Way back when, I meant to pursue a career in the United States military. At first I thought the navy and then found my place with the army. I was in an ROTC program, but because I had not started from the beginning, I was required to go to Camp Challenge (or basic camp). It’s like boot camp but shorter and not as unpleasant depending your drill sergeants (my DIs did not hold to that latter fact and gave it to us as much as they could–still easier than trainees, but we lost a few people to medical because of hernias and the like).

Anyway, when I came home, I was unnerved by the changes. I loved nature. I loved going out to parks and climbing a tree and just basking in its wonder. But when I came home, trees and roads and become lines of fire and ambush zones and it all proved very difficult to unhook from.

I’m reminded of this because I’ve been pursuing publication for two years now (my first query was sent September 2009). And I draw closer to my goal, it’s been harder to disassociate from that slog and just…be. I am competitive and like to win. No one likes to have the race end right before they get to the finish line. But that has required an emotional tax that is sometimes hard to pay. I am a writer is always followed by “Have you written anything I’ve heard of” and “Wow you must be rich” neither of which I can affirm.

Sometimes I feel that disconnection where I’m walking through the forest but the trees aren’t trees and the roads aren’t roads. Twitter isn’t twitter and word counts aren’t word counts. They’re objectives and goals and requirements and all part of this grand social puppet show I’ve thrown myself into.

Today I’m feeling particularly zen. I’m not sure why. Perhaps it was the delicious chicken chili I just had. Either way, today I see the trees for trees. I enjoy writing. I enjoy what I write. And while yes I do want an agent and to be professionally published, it’s enough that I enjoy what I do.

Strangely, all the self-doubt and worry about not being good enough lessens when you’re not so concerned with being published. If you’re not obsessing about whether they love you, it’s much easier to love yourself.