Pride is so much more than a month. It's paying respect to everyone in our community who came before me and paved the way for me to live as my authentic self. It's putting in the work to make sure that future generations can live and love the way they were born to without fear. It means living and loving and existing authentically and unapologetically. But most of all, it means that every single day, I get to wake up and celebrate love. Queer love is magical.
Finishing, in this sense, feels not like the end of the road but more like closing one chapter and opening the next one. I have stories to tell, dreams to chase, and goals to achieve. I was meant to write.
There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.
We’re human. Rejection hurts, and it’s easy to instinctively take it personally. But it's not always about you. What I’ve learned when it comes to my own writing is that “no” sometimes just means “not right now” or “not here but somewhere else.” I’m learning to take rejection as an opportunity to improve and grow, something we can always do as writers. And as humans.
Let’s talk about the word NO. I write that in all caps, because that’s how the word feels in my head. NO! As a writer, I don’t like to hear it. But as an editor, I have to say it all the time.
I’m interning with a publishing house, which is something I’ve dreamt about doing for a long time. So despite the weirdness of being a 42-year-old intern, I’m having a good time. It’s never too late to go after what you want. This is your reminder to go do something for yourself, something you want, just for you.
I had to take a step back and remind myself of what Samantha tells me: We’re writing new stories. And the beauty of new stories is that we can write them whenever we want.
Walking into Charis Books and More is like coming home, whatever “home” means to you. For me, it’s not a place but a feeling—a feeling of warmth, of belonging, of being seen and accepted and loved.
What I’ve realized is that I didn’t see myself as a writer because I was turning off my creativity. I was writing user manuals and release notes when I wanted to be writing stories. I was turning off the part of my brain that had something to say. I’ve always had the means to tell my story; I just didn’t realize I could.
I want to write my story and release it out into the world, and then I want to keep writing. I want to find creative manuscripts that have something to say and help turn that manuscript into a finished book. I want to feel that feeling I had as a child when that first newsletter would come off the copy machine in my mom’s office.
Robyn Weaver 