Two months ago I wrote a post titled The Possibility List (click here).
I'd spent a decade of digging myself further and deeper into a rut, but while I was drinking I didn't even realise I was in it.
Seven months of being sober had given me the energy, bravery and determination to try and change my life. I stopped digging, put down the shovel and looked up at the sky.
Suddenly the world seemed full of possibility.
So I dusted off the young adult novel that I'd written and, finally, found the courage to enter it for two unpublished novel awards
Then, four days later, I found The Lump (see my post: I Need Help).
The world I'd only just rediscovered came crashing down around my ears. I stopped looking ahead and went back to focusing on one day at a time. I hunkered down and closed the shutters.
The novel went back in the drawer.
Not only did I not have the time or the energy to focus on it, but I also lost faith that anything miraculous could happen. I'd had this momentary belief that my life was about to transform (in a good way), but I was wrong. I got cancer instead.
Then yesterday I got an e-mail. The novel that I'd forgotten about has made it onto the short list of one of the awards I'd entered. I'm in the final ten! The winner gets some cash and a publishing contract.
I'm certain that I won't win, but that's not the point. The point is this: perhaps I can write. Perhaps my life is about to transform. Perhaps I wasn't wrong.
Maybe the dolphin didn't lie. (See my post: Let Me Not Die While I'm Still Alive).
Only one problem. So far they've only read my first three chapters and a synopsis. They now want the rest of the book. Which needs formatting and editing. In between the radiotherapy.
Love to you all,