I read a fantastic post by Barbara O’Neal on Writer Unboxed. It’s a letter to her younger, writer self. It’s a beautiful letter (read it here), really well written but what inspired me was the concept.
Once upon a time, you were a young reader who wrote for fun. Writing for publication was a distant, daring dream you had hidden deep in your soul. You didn’t think of yourself as a writer because you weren’t published. You wondered if you would make it, if you had what it took. You read like crazy and you wrote. Most of all, you loved to write.
What would you say to that young writer? If you could go back in time, what would you tell him or her?