Cold Soup

I’m in a season of rejection.
A string of bad luck.
A slump.

After a season of wild creativity, I have all these offerings–manuscripts of offerings–and it may be that the value in making them was all the value there is.

Being in a rejection slump sucks.

It especially sucks because I’m not in a time of my life where any writing is easy. I’m writing this right now while holding a half-awake six month old and trying to eat my lunch (soup–I’m not overly successful) an hourish later than normal.

Right now, with five kids between the ages of 6 months old and 9 years old at home all the time, writing feels like wringing water from a stone.

I love it, sincerely love it, but its difficult to find time to come to the page at all, let alone to create something I’m satisfied with enough to show other actual real live humans.

Even the acrobatics required to come to this space means…eating cold soup.

The point is to be faithful.
Faithful to keep creating my work, revising my work, and submitting my work.

I fully believe creativity and writing is a gift from God–but also believe it isn’t up to me what He does with it. I’d love to see something bloom from all this–I’d love to put some poems in the hands of readers.

Until then, I’m going to keep believing in the value of showing up, of revising, of eating cold soup.

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