I’ve let this blog fade out, but it’s done everything but die off completely. It stands as a nagging, almost taunting, reminder each time I glance at the WordPress bookmark in my browser of what I once aspired to be. Maybe it’s still something I aspire to, but the context has changed.
Too many people have been asking if I’m still writing and I have to brush off the feeling of embarrassment and failure each time I tell them “No.” I still get writing job listings emailed to me from a college professor whom I haven’t had the heart to tell I’ve closed that chapter of my life. Friends who work with great publications wonder why I never write for them. My former editor continues to toss stories my way. What was at first an irritating topic of discussion has recently gotten me thinking that I was too quick to jump the writing ship. I’m still wary — I studied alongside an impeccable group of writers, many of whom have already clocked time at some of the most prestigious publications. A handful of them have even published books. I was a good writer, but I didn’t see myself as great as them. I didn’t expect the world to notice my fade out.