Mail time has always been a much anticipated event at our house. People have argued over the priviledge of getting the mail from the mailbox and everyone jostles over each other to see what has arrived in the day's stack. Will there be letters from pen-pals or the latest issue of a good magazine? Maybe there will be a surprise package even!
And then there are days when the mail is a disappointment. Usually it's the lack of fun mail that is disappointing. But today, for me, it comes in the form of an envelope that holds a rejected manuscript from a children's magazine.
I had promised myself not to get my hopes up, but in spite of myself, I did hope and wish, for maybe, just maybe, a nice slim letter telling me that they loved my short story and would be happy to publish it.
Most of me didn't expect to receive the response that I would have liked, but I'm still a little sad. I wish they liked it. I wish it were easier to find a magazine that would want to publish my work.
And I'm trying to fight discouragement today. Writing hasn't been easy for me lately, inspiration being low and time even scarcer. Will anything I write ever be something worth publishing? I find myself re-reading journal entries from close to two years ago. In one entry, I copied and pasted the lyrics to a favorite song, and suddenly, I find them incredibly encouraging.
From nine to five
I only strive to stay awake
But the child inside me
Dares to believe I still can fly
Can’t let those dreams just die
I got to dream like New York
As high as the skyline
Aim for the stars above those city lights
I want to dream like New York
I’m running down Broadway
I got to catch the next train
I’m making my way
("Dream Like New York" - Tyrone Wells)
With life as of late, full of work and studying and busyness...I feel like I'm constantly striving and not always succeeding, especially when it comes to writing. But...I still dream. I dream about words, longing to create something that will thrill the reader, just as words have always excited and thrilled me. I want to write. I have to write, even when my words feel petty and small and foolish.
Setbacks always come. Discouragement always comes. But we can't give up on dreaming and trusting and hoping. Dreams always take work, but in the end, it's worth it.
This week will find me going to the post office with another envelope and another manuscript for another magazine.
I'm dreaming like New York and this manuscript just might make it on the next train.