I had this Wylie Coyote moment.
I was writing.
I had a goal in mind.
And a fellow writer, who I’ll call Thomas, who was much, much, further along in his career, asked me what my goal was.
I said, I’m writing a novel.
He looked at me like he wanted to pat me on the head or pinch me on the cheek.
He said those fateful words,
Looked at me like I was just darling with my bwig, bwig goals…
Squeezed up his face, and pursed his lips, and nodded, as if to say, sure. Sure you are.
And then, he moved right along to another topic, as if I had never said anything at all.
I regretted telling him immediately.
And, honestly, I put my pen down for a few days.
And, by a few days, I mean a week.
And, by a week, I mean ten days.
It was the combination of the words, and the look, and the tone. From someone I respected. Who was somewhat accomplished.
It wasn’t even the word ambitious. It was something about the way he tacked on, young lady, at the end.
And I realized the things I had accomplished before in my personal life, or professionally, happened because I just kind of did them. I didn’t have time to tell anybody…
I can either pick up my pen, or I can worry and contemplate the size of the task.
And so I picked up my pen.
And decided to get back to my “very ambitious goal.”
And see where it might take me.