About two months ago, I bought a new swimsuit which I unabashedly wore about my in-laws' pool on many occasions. It was black, with gold accents, and in one piece (so a hard find). I was proud of my purchase. Although aware of a strong history of bad fashion sense, I never suspected my swimsuit anything less than simple and elegant.
Then my sister, after visiting me (and swimming with me), called me up to ask my swimsuit size.
"Why do you need to know?"
"I'm buying you a new swimsuit."
I considered this a very nice gesture (not necessarily a hint) until I went home this month and went swimming with another sister...who saw my black suit with gold accents...and who said thank goodness I was getting another because that one looked like an old lady's swimsuit from the 80's.
(But come on, aren't the 80's in now?)
And all those times I paraded around my in-laws in this suit, and nobody said a thing! Apparently we're not on "your swimsuit is ugly" terms yet.
I've been thinking about honesty in my writing. Being honest with myself when I need to stop a project...or start a new one. Honesty with myself when I'm writing a scene that I know won't make the cut, but I write it anyway because it needs to be written, even if I'm the only one who ever sees it. Honesty that this writing journey is going to take an enormous amount of time and devotion, way more than I dreamed starting out. And honesty with myself when I need to know if I have what it takes, if I'm willing to devote that time.