Deep within

by Camelia Miron Skiba

Giving up—that’s how I feel lately. Pack all notebooks, all books, pens and papers in boxes, tape them shut and burn them all. Erase all files, all manuscripts and clean my computer of anything and everything reminding me of writing. Books I’ve written, books I am in the process of writing and books I plan on writing—delete them all from my computer and from my memory. Why bother? Why torment myself every day trying to write another word, another paragraph, another chapter? Why spend hours talking to imaginary people, listening to their stories, always incomplete and conflicting, always leaving the hardest parts to me—putting it all together into a manuscript? Why bother?

The answer is . . . I don’t know. It’s almost like something out there, something bigger than me, a force I can’t see, name or touch keeps me bound in front of the computer, stroking the keyboard into the next word, the next paragraph the next chapter. The same force torments me when I don’t write, showing me the world in colors I don’t want to see, nagging me to return to the keyboard, pushing me to find the next piece to the puzzle, and the thing I hate the most, making me so fully aware of how empty I feel without writing.

I’m doomed if I write, doomed if I don’t. I’m the happiest and the saddest at the same time, a toxic state of mind that tears through me like hot blades. I’ve been on both sides of the fence—writing like a madman and not writing at all—and let me tell you, I hurt on both sides.

And then, the moment of truth came last night, when watching the trials for the Paralympics I saw amputees athletes running, blind athletes long-jumping and wheel-chaired athletes speeding toward the finish line. My heart stopped watching one amputee runner whose prosthetics broke and he tumbled to the ground. I began crying at the sight of him, his arms beating the air in a desperate attempt to finish the race.

How do they do it? What drives them, what motivates them to look past their disabilities and reach for the stars? I tell you what: it’s called love, passion for something greater and bigger than any obstacle. As if a light came on, I felt ashamed for my shortcoming and the self-pity I sunk into for a while now.

Sure, giving up is easy. Pack, delete, burn, I can do whatever I want. Or, I can keep writing because there is no gain where there is no pain and there is no reward without trial. And trial is called creation and creation means life.

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About Camelia Miron Skiba

I WRITE. I LIVE. I LOVE. I DREAM. I WRITE. I’m Chris’ wife, Patrick’s mom and Bella’s owner. During the day, I’m the assistant to the Director in SESE at Arizona State University, and romance’s slave at night. My debut novel "HIDDEN HEART" came out in March 2011. Since then I published four more books and a short novella. I moved to the U.S in 2003, following my heart and the man who stole it. I love comedies, historical dramas and happily-ever-after stories. Each year I participate in one big event that requires me to train. My biggest sportive accomplishment was the 3-day 60 miles Susan Komen Walk. Annually I pick a color I decree my favorite (this year is salmon). I refused to text until 2010, always preferring to hear voices rather than sending emotionless messages. Politic bores me to death and I have no tolerance for arrogance.

12 thoughts on “Deep within

    • Thanks, Judy for reading and leaving a comment. As I was replying to Maria’s, maybe we should start a Cheer-Up-Squad, to help each other when struggling with our own demons. Something to help push past those black/frustrating/unmotivated/doubting moments and keep doing what we love most, put one step in front of the other until the sun returns on our soul. Who’s in for the Cheer-Up-Squad (CUS)?

      Liked by 1 person

    • My pleasure, Maria. Actually I dwelled on whether to blog about my state of mind or just put yet another mask on and pretend the world is pink, but one can only pretend so much. I think it’s important to acknowledge our feelings and emotions once in a while, voice them. And I also think it’s okay to feel this way but the key is to push past it.
      Maybe we should start a Cheer-Up-Squad, to help each other when struggling?


  1. Oh, I sure hope you keep writing, for your own sake because, you know, you might get stalked and nagged by ME. And please don’t think about burning or deleting anything anymore, instead just give them to me, because I love your writing and I would like to read it and have it on my virtual shelves. You know, if you won’t eat the candy, don’t throw it away, give it to me, I do like cherry 🙂 Well, you know what I mean, hon. Love you!


  2. Beautiful post, reflecting I guess what many writers struggle with every once in a while. I just sent in my first submission and got two rejections (nothing surprising there) and even though I expected it and knew that I wasn’t reeeeally believing in getting published one day, I caught myself thinking: Why am I doing this? Am I being completely selfish, delusional and crazy to be spending so much time on writing? And yet, here I am, scheming out the sequel to my first unpublished novel.
    So, just keep on going, every day, and baby steps at a time!


    • Dear Astrida, thanks so much for the kind words and CONGRATS on your rejections! It means you had the courage to put yourself out there, fearlessly facing your own doubts and bravely standing up for your dream–to become a published writer. Don’t give up on your dream because when you do that… you give up on yourself. Keep writing, keep trying and keep hoping.
      I once went to a writers conference and was brought to tears by the speaker, Christie Craig (writes also as C. C Hunter) who gave all of us a lesson in perseverance and hope. She brought all her rejections, one box after another after another… she kept pulling them out, rims of rejections, some of them a page long, some only a sentence. She told us each rejection made her stronger and used it as a push forward. One of my all time fave speeches.
      A few days ago I just received my tenth rejection, so I’m way ahead of you… hahaha. They all hurt ONLY for however long you let them hurt you, but you can turn them into fuel, which I have a feeling you are doing anyway, right? Good luck with the sequel. Let me know when you have it done so we can celebrate, ok?

      Liked by 1 person

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