I just opened up a sealed letter from 2004 in one of my diaries marked "open in January 2013" (I missed the date, but that's okay).
It was an "American Girl" fill-out letter to my future self, and one message to myself was that I hope by the time I open the letter, I will have "published an academy-award winning novel" (that's what I wrote).
Back in 2004 I was writing a novel. In my today's judgement, it wasn't that amazing, but for a 14-year-old is was pretty awesome. I think I was up to page 150 or so when I stopped. I got really far into it. I wanted to finish and publish it, and Malky loved it and thought of the name "Web Spinner" for it.
It was legendary.
I have written constantly since then, but my words were never published. I've written short stories, beginnings of long stories, poems, ideas.
And here I am in 2014, with no published book in hand.
Ten years ago those ten years seemed like enough time to do something awesome like that. They were enough time.
But I've done diddley-squat in these long full ten years.
What a disappointment.
Disappointment in myself and in the system.
School (without a doubt) did not strengthen or even support my creativity.
In high school there was no room for true self expression.
Such a shame. Here I am at (almost) 24- with nothin'.
I'm an artist with no art,
A writer with no book.
Just the thoughts in my head.