*SPOILER ALERT* We are all susceptible to an occasional violent yes-I-can-no-I can’t shit-storm. Sadly, this post offers no remedy. There is no moral or heartwarming message, either. However, at the bottom of this entry there is a happy ending. This is about a girl with a dream (me) going through a shit-storm of doubt. Welcome to my story.

I had completed the first draft of my second book (Hamartia’s sequel) when something awful happened: I contracted the silent dream killer, self-doubt. It preys on all people regardless of race, social class, gender, and so on. Some weather through it as if it were nothing more than an inconvenient rainy day. Others, like me, suffer silently and let it brew into a debilitating polar vortex.

Partway through a round of editing, I said to myself, “I hate it.” But this particular bout of doubt didn’t begin with those three words or even on that day. It had been building up over a growing pile of incoming rejections from book one, Hamartia. I have sent in excess of fifty letters (yes, 50) seeking representation from agents and each rejection has slowly bled into my soul, making me question whether or not I should continue. I have moved through the stages of doubt like one would move through the stages of grief, progressing and regressing depending on the day.

First stage – denial. “My book sucks. I’m a terrible writer.”

Stage two – anger. “My friends are all liars—LIARS! Why hasn’t anyone told me that my book sucks and I’m a terrible writer?”

Sometimes I bargain with the universe. “If I get to 100 rejections then I’ll quit dreaming and get back to reality.” Or “If I get published, I promise to cure world hunger.”

Back to anger. “Now world hunger will never be cured!”

And spite. “Let them eat cake!”

And the worst – envy and regret. These two emotions are tricky and work in tandem because both are rooted in the idea that if I had made different choices then I’d have been better off. Often times I feel as though I’m wasting away chasing an unrealistic dream while my peers advance effortlessly in their new careers. “I’m a fraud and should be working a day job, not writing. My book sucks.”

At each stage, I fought the negative feelings by willing them to piss off. With every letter telling me Hamartia wasn’t quite the right fit, I’d even say it out loud, “piss off.” But it became more and more difficult with the passage of time until at last, doubt stopped me from trying altogether. The first rejection hurt like a pinprick. By fifty? It’s like a machete is wedged deep between my shoulder blades and my pride is gushing out of me like Niagara Falls.

And then, on January 31st, an upward turn came in the form of a little email. A contest I had entered in December and had forgotten all about announced: “Congratulations on winning Second Place in our Holiday Book Writing Contest!” What? Second place? When I saw the email, the first thought that ran through my head was, “I bet they gave everyone second place, like a participation ribbon kids get on track & field day.” And then, “I bet there were only ten people in the competition.” But you know what? There were 200 participants. And no, they didn’t give out 199 second place ribbons. Hamartia doesn’t suck and now I have proof.

And that brings me to the stage I find myself at today: hope. It didn’t come from self-awareness, I didn’t have an epiphany, and I certainly didn’t overcome anything because of some deep truth buried within. I warned you: there is no moral to this story. If you or someone you know is suffering from self-doubt, I have no answers. Hope came from the sweet sound of validation. And although validation isn’t a cure for self-doubt, it’s my reason to keep pushing through it. I suppose that’s my advice if ever asked: grasp at any reason to keep your dream alive no matter how superficial.

Validation that someone other than my friends loved my book is superficial and it’s enough. A whole panel of judges who don’t know me or care about my feelings loved my book. From 200 entries, I came in second. My dream is not only possible but it’s within reach.

Piss off, self-doubt! I’ve earned this.

Thank you for supporting me.