Those Valley’s are often filled with marsh and bears and rogue hunters, not as easy as the flat lands would seem.
There have been rocks put in my path to get around, swim around, climb over and bulldoze through.
Somehow those rocks have yet to ever stop me.
They only serve to challenge me.
I have achieved standing atop those rocks to watch the sunset over the water, turning glass in calm shades of blue’s and purple’s and pink’s like the inside of a shell, a mirror of the sky.
Those rocks belong in my story. They are not anything I am ashamed of. They are not anything I wish would not have been there now that I am looking back. They made my story. Had those rocks not been there, I would not have many chapters in my story to write. If those rocks hadn’t been there I would not have many of the stories of which I write where I need to feel the tears for the reader to feel the tears. Where I need to have known the determination that my character has so that my reader feels the determination that my character has.
The loss. The love, the heartbreak the success and achievements. All of it. Those rocks made me. Those rocks made my story.