Ink and Inspiration

Source

Maya looked at herself in the broken mirror's reflection. The visible ebony circles indicated that she had been awake all night. She found it difficult to accept that she looked in the mirror and seeing herself.

"You can do this," she said very quietly. However, just like all those other unsuccessful positive statements, the words seemed empty.

Her eyes moved from the bundle of papers with “no” on her desk to her reflection. Publishers in twelve houses had turned down her work. With every rejection slip saying “thanks but no thanks,” she felt as if one more piece of her hope about being a writer crumbled away.

She fell into the seat of her old sofa, holding some warm, weak coffee in a cup. The chapter which remained incomplete glowed accusingly on her laptop screen as indicated by the blinking cursor. In retrospect, typing used to be fun; it used to make her day, with characters and worlds coming out effortlessly through the keyboard.

At present, she couldn't believe in herself. Each statement appeared unnatural. She had doubts about revising every story and changing any character. The motivation that used to fuel her creativity was no longer there.

Maya received a message on her mobile. The closing date for one more writing competition was approaching. Deleting the email was all that Maya’s finger wanted to do at that moment. She wondered why she should even bother since it would result in another denial anyway.

She could hardly breathe because she felt tightness in her chest. Her eyes began to tear up. It might be the right moment to surrender the hope. After all, she lacked the talent necessary for a writing career.

A soft tap on the door disturbed her thoughts. "There's a delivery addressed to you, Ms. Thompson."

Maya was surprised when she opened her door and saw a delivery man with a little package. She signed, wondering why there was something being delivered since she hadn’t anticipated it.

She cautiously unpacked the box indoors. In it, there was an attractive hard-covered notebook which had a message on the first page:

"To my brilliant granddaughter. Never stop believing in your gift. The world needs your stories. Love Nana."

Maya could not hold her hands still as she followed the writing that she knew so well. Her grandmother died half a year back. It was probably planned before...

Memories poured in. It reminded her of those summers when she lay on the porch swing at her grandma's, spinning fictitious stories. The pride in Nana's eyes as Maya read her first short story aloud. Her unwavering belief that Maya's words would someday touch hearts around the world.

Something moved in Maya’s heart. She found herself starting to feel hopeful again. With curiosity, she began to write as soon as she opened the journal filled with the fresh paper smell.

Maya was decisive. She wrote to let out her feelings of unhappiness, terror and hopes about dying which she might otherwise change very easily. The writing flowed in a rough, unrefined, and real way.

As she wrote without a break, time went very fast for her. After a few hours of writing continuously, Maya raised her head from writing pad and realized that it was evening. Even though she had some pain in her wrist, she felt better than she had in a long time.

She went through what she had written again. It did not belong to her typical category or fashion. This was very intimate and revealed a lot—just another window into her issues with being a writer. But maybe...

As she expanded on it, typing away at her laptop keys, she called it a journal entry before refining it into an essay skeleton by daybreak. An essay that laid open the ups and downs of following a creative passion.

Tired but excited, she emailed the piece to an online literary magazine for submission. Then she fell asleep instantly for a short break that lasted only a few hours.

Maya received a mail that disturbed her. She felt nausea as she opened it, hoping for a negative response just like before.

Still, the editor's perspective was:
"Your touching essay on writers triumphing over obstacles was very honest and straightforward. May we publish it in our next magazine copy, then, if..."

In disbelief, Maya read the email for the third time and confirmed that she was awake. Her work interested them enough to want publication for it. And not only that—they asked for other pieces related to the same topic.

This wasn’t exactly a book offer. However, it was a beginning like she had wished for. A ray of hope breaking through countless rejections.

Maya got an email from a little publisher then felt her phone vibrate. Her essay was read and they liked her writing style. But can she send them the whole book in case she wished to do so?

Maya felt hopeful. The journal was her last present from her grandmother and made her find herself again.

She looked at herself bravely in the mirror. Her eyes were shining again. And for a third time, she said those words, but now Maya spoke with absolute conviction:

"You can do this."

And for the first time in so long, she believed it.

Maya sat down and started working on a new file immediately after finding a place to settle. As she typed away merrily, her fingers moving swiftly over the keys, a different kind of story crossed through her mind.

She wrote about how she found it hard sometimes to believe in herself. Also, she talked of losing faith then getting it back again. Maya poured her heart onto the page, certain that her words would make sense to others facing similar battles as her.

There were still obstacles ahead. She would also face additional dismissals. However, it was clear that she was on the right track towards achieving publishing success.

Now, Maya knew that winning means being consistent while doing what she enjoyed and believing in herself when nobody else would.

Maya’s self-confidence was restored by her grandmother’s belief. She planned to take care of the talent she had rekindled and never allow it to fade away once more; as a result, she would do this.

Maya slowly regained her confidence through continuous efforts, which included joining writing groups, attending workshops, and submitting articles. With time passing by, people began to see her name in many published works.

After much determination over a period of two years, Maya was able to get her first book accepted by a well-known publisher. The feedback praised her for writing stories that people understood easily and having real characters.

In her bag, Maya carried the same leather notebook that she had used during the writing of her initial novel. She opened the book and turned to the first page; then read again what her grandma had told her and immediately said, crying softly, "Nana, I'm finished with it all. It’s not a matter—thank you so much!"

Many clients stood before her in a queue waiting to make their purchases. Maya took in a lot of air and revealed her new work. Gradually, she gathered the strength to start talking. They still had some traveling left to do. However, nowadays, Maya was ready because she believed in herself and her ability to overcome any whatnots called dreaming!