Empty Hearts Turned Red by the Touch of a Finger

Contemplating why I write.

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It’s been over six months since I turned in my manuscript for my book, HOTSHOT, and I’ve yet to receive feedback on it. I left my Fulbright last December in order to finish the book on time. That it didn’t matter, that I could have stayed in the Czech Republic and turned my manuscript in months late, never occurred to me, but hindsight is 20/20. It’s not an exaggeration to say I nearly killed myself trying to get that book in on time. My editor hasn’t emailed me since November. They haven’t responded to my agent’s emails, nor mine.

I’ve been wondering lately why I don’t want to write. Why, when I start anything, it snuffs out within a few days. I can’t sustain my excitement for large projects, because my dreams came true. I got a book deal. I’d dreamed of that moment for my entire life. I turned in my manuscript and let it go, knowing that some space would give me more perspective. A mon…