Rousing A game of laurel sportsball

I wrote a few days ago that it was time to start aiming a little higher with my writing, and only realized last night how that could be interpreted as me thinking I'm better than the magazines I'm being published at. Great Jumping Jack Flash, no. Every day I read the offerings at each magazine in absolute awe of what talent there is in the world, and it inspires me to keep writing, to get better, and to keep growing. That's what I meant by aiming higher. I need to appreciate what I've written, trust that it's good, but also be self-aware enough to know that, even if it's good, it can always get better. I can't rest on my laurels (I don't even have laurels, and truthfully, I don't know what they are. They don't sound terribly relaxing to begin with, like something I would want to rest on, so perhaps it would be better to say "I can't rest on my beanbag chair" because those are fairly comfortable, and at least make it difficult to get back up again once you've sat down. But then again, I don't have a beanbag chair, either.) I need to keep setting the bar for myself a little higher each time I write, each time I edit, and that means being brave enough to go outside of my comfort zone.

That's where the romantic short story is coming in. My husband will tell you that I am probably the least romantic person on earth, which is why writing romance is definitely raising the bar. Can I do it in a believable way? Will I be able to nail the dialogue? I trust that I'll be able to handle the setting, the plot, the characters, but there has to be a level of vulnerability and emotions that I'm not used to writing. Knowing that the site I'm submitting it to is a paying site means that other writers will be bringing their A game (I don't know what that means. Is the A game where one gets the laurels? I shouldn't use sports analogies.) because this is their job, this is how they pay their bills. I have to really stretch my skills if I'm going to make this one.

And if I don't, that's okay, too. As long as I can honestly tell myself that I did the best I could for where I am now, I will cherish that rejection letter with all of my heart. Rejection letters aren't evidence of failure. They're proof of our grit, as writers. It shows that we're trying.

I'm definitely trying. Yesterday's Monday Morning Musing was terrible, but I posted it anyway as a reminder that not every day of writing will be literary genius. Some days getting a complete sentence out is like herding cats. What's important is that we never get comfortable with squishy A game laurels and always reach a little bit farther than where we are now.

I'm going to publish this post without proofreading (as usual) but then I'm pouring myself another cup of coffee, knocking out a bunch of school work so that my brain is clear, and then I'm going out on the deck to sit in the sun and write this flippin' romance thing. Summer is the time for loving with reckless abandon, right? (Fall is the time for spooky-spookness!) so I'm going to use these last few warm days of summer to write an inspired love story full of sass, and carpeted walls, and chocolate! Okay, here I go! Right now! I'm going! To write! I got this! A game!