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Usually I’m a big fan of rain. It smells good. It feels good. It makes the grass look good. Rain is usually about new beginnings and new growth.

 

What I’m not a big fan of is grey clouds, the metaphorical kind that hang above your head.

 

Several of my writer friends are in slump right now, a funk, a rough patch, pick your cliche. We were pumped for the conference in May and afterwards we drooped into a serious case of the summers.

 

Perhaps we exhausted ourselves.

 

Perhaps we wrote too much, thought too much, critiqued too much.

 

Or perhaps, life, the big bully that it is, is simply placing a grey cloud of doubt over our heads, one that says you can’t, you shouldn’t, you won’t.

 

This, unfortunately, is the inevitable part of a writer’s journey — the part where the brain rebels and starts spewing lies at you until you believe they are true. Until you believe that you are the worst writer that ever existed and, honestly, what were you thinking trying to write?

 

But, if you can endure this grey cloud, if you can ignore the rain, you will have a new beginning.

 

The truth is we do suck at creating, sometimes. But other times we are quite awesome at it. No one is ever purely good or bad at something. It’s a process. A balance.

 

What I’m realizing is the only difference between a successful writer and an unsuccessful writer is perseverance. The willingness to keep going even when there are grey clouds above. Even when it feels like it’s raining and the storm is washing all your brilliance away.

 

You have to pick up a pen or open your laptop anyways, tell the grey cloud to get lost, and write a damn good story.

 

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