I recently contributed a story to a collection for the local public library. It was nice seeing my name in print, in a work that I didn’t have to cobble together all on my own. The person who did the editing and layout for the book did a really great job. Ten stories got contributed.
It’s been an exciting experience, and in my more lucid moments I feel good about helping others. There’s still a part of me that wants to rob me of my excitement and sense of accomplishment. I feel like I can’t be happy about any part of what I did, or else some bad thing might happen. Explaining it is difficult.
Right now I’m just trying to be okay and on an even keel. Part of me is demanding to be overjoyed, and the other part of me is tugging back in the other direction. The problem is that both are tugging on ropes tied to my arms. I have to fight off two people.
Above all else, I’m trying to make sure that I don’t let this internal conflict prevent me from continuing work. All told, it’s robbed me of too many days of not being able to produce. It does help for me to get it out here.
So, I have a short story in an anthology. I might not be able to fully experience the heights of achievement for contributing my work, but I can at least try to accept that it’s a good thing.