Progress

  I'm writing again. Really writing. I finally finished my book outline, and in the last week or so I've written about 20 pages. Pretty good pages, too. I'm really excited about it.

  For my midterm paper for Modern American Literature, my teacher always gives a creative option. I've had this teacher five times, and this is the first time I've taken the creative option. When handing back papers, my teacher paused with mine and said she wanted to talk to me about it.
  "Was it bad?" I asked immediately.
  "No. It was damn good, Julia. Damn good." She wanted me to perform it for the class.

  I'm happy when I write. There aren't many things that come naturally to me, but writing is one.


  I so want to be an author.

  So, so much.

  I feel small admitting that. Why am I embarrassed? Why do I feel like I need to apologize?

  I'm going to go back to my book now.

  . . . Thanks for reading, guys.
 I mean it.
 Thank you.