If you are a writer, you know that this can be a lonely profession or hobby. However, I’ve been lucky to connect with several writers that I “met” through this blog, writer’s, conferences, and a writer’s group. Two of those people have made it to the next step of signing on with an agent. I am thrilled and excited for them because it means that there is still hope for those of us who aren’t quite there yet.

BUT, and this is where I keep it real with you guys. There’s a part of me that feels left out. My husband thinks I’m jealous and I want to clarify that I’m not. I tried to explain it this way:

My two friends and I are at a party. We are having a good time commiserating about the hard times, laughing about the good times, and sharing our journeys. I go to the kitchen to get a drink and when I come back, the room is empty. I go outside. It is dark, cold, and the wind is whipping wet snow across my bare arms and face. I see a house that is lit up and I wonder what’s going on over there. I head over thinking this must be where my friends are and when I peek in the window, I see them standing by a fireplace with a lit fire together laughing…not at me, but at some story one of them told. I want to join them so I twist the handle on the front door, but it is locked. I try to open the window, but it won’t budge. Therefore, I’m left standing staring in at them an oh how I wish I was there feeling the heat of the fire against my face and arms.

At this point, they cannot open the doors or windows for me because I have to do that myself and while I am thrilled for them, I wish we were all at the same party. The good news is that when I finally get there, they will be able to guide me.

Congratulations to my good friends who are one step closer to getting published.