Make It Happen.

I’m working on a collection of short stories to send into writing competitions this year (like I mentioned in the last post). In all honesty, it is DIFFICULT. I took Creative Writing classes in high school, and kept up with it in college, but short stories are a whole different ball game from novels or poetry. To make a compelling and compact story is a challenge. At least it is for me. I am thorough by nature. I’m a put-inner, not a take-outer. Condensing fiction is very much a “put a camel through the eye of the needle” exercise for me. I feel like I can come up with a million ideas for a book, and about 1.32 ideas for a short story. Obviously, as I have just rambled on for an entire paragraph about the fact that I can’t make things short. UGH.

I was walking through TJ Max with my sister yesterday and I saw a journal that said, “MAKE IT HAPPEN” across the front. It stuck with me. I wrote it on my dry erase board in my writing nook in big bold letters as motivation. Regardless of short story ideas writers block, MAKE IT HAPPEN. Regardless of poor sleep, MAKE IT HAPPEN. Regardless of Netflix teasing me to binge, MAKE IT HAPPEN. Family will forever be the one exception to this rule that I am making for myself. I don’t ever want a job or craft or hobby to ever over my roles as a wife and mama. Ever. Aside from that, MAKE IT HAPPEN, ALI!

Bonne nuit.


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