I've been told I had my head in the clouds. I've been told I act like a child simply because I haven't allowed life to kill my imagination. I've been told I'm uncool, uptight, different. You name it.
Through it all, my inner fire remained (some days burning brighter than others) until one day I let it warm me instead of trying to extinguish it. Little by little, I kindled the flame until it burned bright. The past five years have been about shedding skins, evolving, being myself. I've become a mother, a novelist, and soon a self-published novelist. I've removed obstacles to my success be it people, places, or things. I'm still stoking the flames but am now comfortable in my own skin, proud of my ideas, thrilled with what it will bring in the future.
Last night I finalized the cover design for my debut e-book, the manuscript is nearly ready for a professional copy edit, and I'm ready to crack a bottle of champagne. None of this would be possible if I'd listened to anything other than my inner wisdom, my creative flame. I've gained infinitely more than I lost just by being myself.