Once again, Iowa has turned me away, taken the fullness of all I had to offer and said no to me. And once again, it is almost more a relief to know, to just have an answer. I've never been good at living in uncertainty. Chaos I can handle, I can deal with, but not knowing is hard on me.
In a lot of ways I'm relieved not to have to uproot myself, set myself and my writing up to constant scrutiny, suffer what is rumored to be a harsh and treacherous path to writing glory. Even though it offered a proscribed change that I was willing to accept and looking forward to taking on, I am glad that it was a no.
I don't know what lies beyond today. It is a good feeling that brings both sides of the spectrum of feelings with it. And all I can say is that I know I am lucky to be in this position yet again, that I have the world at my feet, that I am at another fork in the road with no burdens and little responsibility to hold me back.
All of what I do is pushing to be something I've always wanted to be. It all seems unnatural, unfair, when I get home I'm too tired to do the thing I love most. I never said it better than I did in his presence (the brit's), when asked what I do for a living, that everything I do is to support me as a writer. Iowa fit into that, but not being there doesn't mean I can't still be a writer. That's the thing people don't get. Of course I'm disappointed I didn't get in to Iowa (again) but it doesn't mean anything other than I didn't get in (again).
The truth is, I don't write as much as I could, I don't focus on my success as a writer as much as I could, I don't do all that I could be doing to be a working writer. So as with other things in my life, I'm going to see what occurs when I give it my full attention, when I approach a problem with a renewed sense of discipline, earnestness and enthusiasm for seeing some glimmer of progress.
And maybe actually focusing on my writing and not the path will lead me somewhere worth going.
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