
I placed the precious pages on the table and took a photo of what it is that I accomplished today. By some standards, not much, but to me, I hit a milestone by actually sending my work to the editor's desk of a local magazine. It was quite simple and I thought of the manner in which a child builds monsters in the dark closet of her bedroom. For too long, I've sat inside a still room locked by my own doing. I lament the time I've wasted like Francis Parkmen creating maladies of no worth or purpose. The writer's struggle is such a personal duel with the inner working of history, personal experience, and courage. I almost felt the Archangel Michel himself tap my shoulders to say, It's not that bad, just wait for a bit of reject. I can hear my own inner voice struggle to tell my consciousness that I have many more small child-like steps in the road ahead. I've found my fighting stance and a small saber sword so that I will fight myself from locked rooms and destroy my monsters.
---- Lt. John B. Putnam Jr. (1921-1944)
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