I was blog challenged a long, long, time ago, in a facebook group for my agency by two masterful wordsmiths, Tish Thawer and Beth Isaacs. My mission: step away from gif searching, get my rebel tush back in the chair, and blog.
You see where this is going right?
So with just a little more fanfare, *cue Star Wars music* grab a snack, sit back, and pray this post doesn’t end like it did for the Death Star.
It all started with an innocent Facebook notification that I’d been tagged in a post by Tish.
I love Tish.
I love everything she touches
And her new series, The Women of Purgatory, HOLY Storm Trooper grab them now.
Anyway, I was tagged by Tish –and then Beth– so I clicked on the notification only to find I’d been blog challenged.
I truly felt Luke’s pain. I’m mean the poor dude grew up in sand! And not
beach sand, but Tattooine sand! So. Pain. Yes?!
I have a feeling that shiz never comes out!
He fell for a princess only to find out she was his sister. Eeeew!
Lost a hand.
Found out his dad was Darth Vader.
Was possibly The Last Jedi.
And was the third wheel in a bromance with Chewbacca and Han Solo.
Dude, that’s a lot of pressure for one Tatooine farm boy, and–Let’s face it.— Han Solo cast a freakin’ huge swoon shadow. One the likes Luke would never find his way out of.
I mean, c’mon!
Yes! You Han!
That’s when it hit me…
Maybe instead of looking at this challenge like Luke did the force I could just—you know—tackle this Han Solo style.
For this post, it’s exactly how the force works. And because this is my post, I’m feeling a little Rey of scoundrel coming through.You know what I’m talking about. That bad ass girl inside all of us. The one who can face any odds, save a boy in distress, *AND* tackle any blog challenge.
You see, writing is a pretty lonely place. Sometimes you do feel like Rey stranded on Jakku, hoping your readers will find you, hoping your distributors will bump up your placement, praying you meet just one of the people who runs the millions of book pirate sites so you can go all Yoda on their ass.
Then you get news from the NYT that their changing their list qualifications and your feel … hopeless and even more alone.
It usually those moments. When the world seems to have totally left you, that you realize you’re not alone.
You’ve got friends calling you out on blog challenges.
You’ve got writers texting you: What’s your word count for the day.
You’ve got readers wanting to know when the next book out.
You’ve got agents in your corner giving you just enough space to figure your head out.
And you realize, maybe –despite it all– this really is the best damn job in the galaxy.
You decide …
You hop in your chair and take off to do some pretty amazing work.
And through it all, you know you’ve got your friends, flying commas, blog challenges, and Han Solo waiting for you.