Great Expectations.

Before I start writing this, let me put a pre-emptive statement out there - especially for my anonymous friend who writes such heartfelt comments - I'd really love to address you by name one day. This is not a "poor me" pity post. Far from it. It's an "I'm kind of struggling right now with everyone else along in my cohort but that's where we're supposed to be maybe...." I'm not quite sure what it is, but it's not a pity party. That I know for sure.

Walking in the halls and sitting in the classrooms of the writing program, there are framed posters of collages of book covers of books published by graduates of the program. Seventies, eighties, nineties. Who knew that the Jennifer Aniston movie "The Object of My Affection" was based on a book from an alum? Not me. "Clockers?" Nope. Then there's the more literary ones, like the one about Rwanda, "We Wish to Inform you that Tomorrow We will Be Killed With Our Families." Then there are the quiet ones I've read and loved: "Ithaka," "The Cure for Grief," "Atmospheric Disturbances," and Alexandra Styron's book about her father. Depending on the mood I'm in, these can be either inspiring and reassuring, or they can be mocking and pressuring.
To whom much is given, much is expected. I know this well. And I usually don't disappoint. I have faith - ridiculous, blind, wondrous, childlike, full-fledged faith - that this decision was a good one. This was actually maybe the first decision in my entire life that I made completely on blind faith. And the first day I hold a review copy of my book in my hands, I'll run my fingers over the cover and remember the anguish and nervousness of finally accepting the ofer and the naysayers telling me it was a mistake. If it's a JK Rowling blockbuster, awesome. If it's a quieter, cult-like followed book, great. But no one can take it away from me. Even if one person reads it.

It's just hard to remember that when you're in the muck of reading 3 books this week that you haven't even looked at, critiquing workshop pieces and getting yours ready, figuring out what your thesis is really going to look like, applying for jobs and summer writing conferences, paying medical bills, and dealing with this damn tremor. I just have to *breathe.* In. Out. In. Out. Repeat on a continuous basis.