Not too long ago, it occurred to me — after I ceased to be obstinate about it — that I was clinging to an old idea and measurement of success: “Fame” in terms of being well-known in the fantasy fiction market. And 100% was tied into having the facial features of “natural fame”.
Thoughts of how I enjoyed writing and envisioning my success before getting mired in the “natural fame” phase circulated. A faint reminder that I defy convention. Not on a whim, but becuase I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it despite the odds and the naysayers.
So, I let go. I let the dream die. And mourned its passing. At the same time, a weight has lifted. In a sense, I am free again to move on, and start anew if that is my wish, my goal, my dream.