I have a HUGE case of Impostor Syndrome that flairs up probably more often than it should. And VP was almost two months ago now. It’s hard, when faced with the minutia and annoyances of life, to hold on to that magic that VP had, the feeling that I am a writer, and I can publish.
Whenever I start to feel like I wasted all that time, money, and energy, I open the folder I keep of VP pictures. Some I took, others are from my classmates. I look at them, and remember. I remember sitting on the seawall talking into my phone’s video feed. I remember the look on Paul’s face when he tried to read Cards Against Humanity answers with a straight face. I remember Alex’s tears when we told her how good her writing is, and Teresa’s face when she scolded me for thinking I didn’t belong there. I remember Shannon’s strong voice and Bear’s advice and Jen’s delight in dead horseshoe crabs. I remember gazing into the water and watching glowing jellyfish along with 30 other people who all had looks of child-like delight on their faces.
I remember magic.
And then I get back to writing.