Tough week

Well, it's been a long week, and it's not over yet. Today I found out that a project I am working on with a group needs to be done next week, as opposed to in two weeks from now. So we have to get cracking. I take comfort from the thought that this means I will be done with one of my classes a week early.

I have allowed my focus to slide too much during this week. I could have accomplished more, could have supped more from the moments and minutes of each day. I will do better.

I've written about 500 words today and have about 700 words of the next chapter in Servant of the King done. I have also gotten a solid start on the write-up of my MA project.

I wonder if all writers experience the fluctuations from confidence to despair--sometimes in a matter of minutes? I wonder how long I can make my skin thick so that when I enter three writing contests and don't place in even one of them, I don't give into the feeling that I really ought to just throw in the towel? I wonder why companies who advertise job openings with descriptions that look like they were lifted from my resume don't seem to realize I am the best man for the job?

Is it possible that this absurdity called "Overqualified" is a reality in today's corporate world?

I don't think we're supposed to struggle and scrape every second of every day until I make it as an author. I mean, that's still going to be a ways out, barring a wonderful, welcome miracle. So I fully expect to land a full time job.

I just pray it can be soon so that some of the pressure will be released. Just a bit, please?

And I wonder if our nation is going to regain greatness or if the clear trends in our government and the paternalistic state we are moving toward are signs of a permanent change?

For now, I better apply for some more jobs. And when I kneel in prayer before I go to sleep, I intend to express vocal thanks for the gift of storytelling and the story in Servant of the King in particular. And when I do that, I am sure I will- as happens so often- feel the sweetness of the still, small voice of the Spirit of my Father. I will put images of long rows of mediocre books filling bookstores out of my mind. I will force thoughts of hopelessness out and I will let Charity in.