I took this photo before submitting my first published short story, Jimmy. A story that, looking back on I find rough beyond belief, but one that I will still happily parade around as my first.

I'm searching for that feeling again. It seems like recently I can't help but criticize every story I put to page. The poetry I write isn't facing the same persecution from myself but everything else I do is. Maybe I need a change in scenery, or to stop the nonsense pressure.

I want silence more than anything, but all I hear is noise from myself or everyone else. The clear mindset I had when starting my two current projects, Fuzz and The Vampire Coverups is now all but gone.

So I look at this photo and try to remember the excitement I had submitting that, and not the noise in my head telling me I'm nothing special at all.