I didn't go to the meeting-see choke a chicken post. I chickened out.
In fact I had a meltdown. It occurred to me that getting a job and a second part time job meant not only the end of my marriage, but the end of my dreams. Working three jobs, there would be no time for writing novels good or bad. My dream of writing a best seller has been with me since I was 21. I've been writing and working toward it seriously for 12 years. That dream got me though days when there was only enough money to feed the kids. Nights when my drunk husband was passed out on the couch and locked me out. To give up that dream is to surrender my soul. Is that the sacrifice I have to make to move on?
I have already surrendered my love, my rights to guide my children's lives, any money I squirreled away, my religion, the only thing I have clung to- desperately- is my stories. To give that up and write about industrial parts instead, is the same as asking me to rip out my still beating heart. But the pay is good...and you will move on... with no heart and no soul, what's the point?