And she was…

And indeed, she was, or indeed she is, yet she is fictional, so is she either? 

Who knows? 

And it is the ‘who knows’ that is the pertinent question of our day. 

We are not discussing the metaphysical space time dimension thing; we’re not that cleaver.   

We are looking at the ‘who knows’ statement.

For the woes and triumphs of young Amy Grace who indeed knows about them?

And the tragic answer is few, a very precious few.

A number so low, that as tight fisted as I am (and I am) I’d be able to stand a round and buy them all a drink.  

And the fault, the blame, the reason, the cause and effect – all one simple answer, one singular root cause.

Me

Confidence is (from time to time) dented, but belief in this tale is unbowed. 

Despite the life affirming slogans on t-shirts and posters belief in itself isn’t enough; it isn’t.

Belief won’t get this tale printed, belief alone won’t get a paperback book in Waterstones.

Belief isn’t enough.

Hard work isn’t enough.

We (I) need to work hard to promote my belief in Amy, I need to take the polite and silent rejections and move on.

I need to strive, to fall short; to be that man in the arena. 

So, we remember this quote:

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”

We take this to heart, we plan for rejection, without accepting rejection we cannot ever archive telling out tall tale.

Without failure I cannot stand misty eyed in Waterstones. 

Failure is to be embraced, is to be chased and worn with pride.

We have a tale to tell, an adventure to share, a bar tab to create that will really make me cry!

Who knows…?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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