Today, I feel stronger.

While I’m hammering out a story, everything’s good. I feel excited about life and the prospects it might bring and it’s impossible to be depressed. That’s what the craft gives back to me.

I don’t need to be accepted anywhere, by any peers. At the keyboard, I accept myself. I enjoy reading what I write, I like discovering what I didn’t know I had in me. My fingers fly, I relax, and everything’s okay. And it gives me the form of respect that should be most important to anyone in the world: Self-respect.

This is me saying no more obsessing over collectible card games. No more playing countless video game sequels for weeks at a time without ever touching my novel. This is me saying I’m going to choose the right path more often.

I keep telling myself that I’m still young, but I can’t say that forever. It’s time to commit more deeply to the craft of writing.