I’ve rewritten this opening sentence about twenty times. None of them seem right.
But here I am in the final hour of being a teenager and yes, I know that I’m being dramatic. And yes, I could definitely make this a Really Depressing Post, but I’m not. I won’t. I’m trying to do this thing where I become famous, so basically, I can’t go around acting like a Super Sad Girl because I’m supposed to promote positivity.
The idea is for me to publish a novel, have people love it, make the best sellers list, win at life, be invited to high schools and middle schools to give speeches (about just life and what it’s like to be a fabulous writer).
That’s what I want to be: A FABULOUS WRITER.
That’s who I am now. We will ignore the fact that my weekend was kicked off with a rejection from a literary magazine (when I become big time published, they will be begging me to write for them (what will I say? we shall see)).
But that’s what it’s all about right? A whole buncha rejection first.
But that’s cool because I’ll be a money maker eventually. Though it really isn’t even about the money. More like I want to write for a living and you know, if I can get enough money to support myself, then fabulous.
A WILL BE WRITER,
A COULD BE STAR
I’ll let you know if twenty feels any better than I don’t want it to be.