Sometimes I’m amazed at how far I’ve come and even more amazed by how far I have to go.

The second anniversary of my starting my first manuscript is fast approaching. I suppose I should pull out that dinosaur and take a look at it. The only reason I hesitate is because I know that one of two things will happen. I might look at the words and be disappointed at how little talent I had when I started on this odyssey. Or I might read it and realize that I have learned so much since I wrote it. With my Type A personality, I fear it would be the former rather than the latter.

My writing has changed so much, I am almost embarrassed by my early stories. Okay, I AM embarrassed. Ironically, I tell myself something entirely different than I would tell my students. I would praise them for their progress and encourage them to step back and admire what they had done and how far they had come. Me? Well, I would wish I could have known then what I know now.

It’s rather a paradox, isn’t it? You can’t learn how to write unless you write. But when you write, you know you can always improve. I suppose I’m waxing philosophic, but it boils down to this — I want to be the best that I can possibly be.

You know, I think I will pull that story out and give it a gander. Maybe I’ve grown enough to be pleased with how much I’ve grown.