Does the road of doubt get you coming and going?
Deborah Kimmett | Sep 10, 2012 | Comments 0
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From a very young age, I have written and performed stories.
When I got out of my parent’s basement, I actually had people pay me to do what I loved. I wrote comedy sketches, TV scripts, and then, in 1989, a big play about the premature birth of my daughter — Miracle Mother. I say “big” because it was a hit and earned me award nominations and national recognition.
Then I wrote a story about my mentor, Mari Hopps, whom I loved like a grandma, and it got panned across the board. With failure came doubt — the kind of doubt that gets up ahead of you in the morning wearing pink panties and eating bonbons.
I had writer’s block — an RV in India after the monsoon kind of writer’s block.
I took artist dates and gathered acorns and drew pictures of my inner child while my husband babysat the outer ones. I filled one journal after another, each page a landfill site of emotional baggage.
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