Don't knock it till you rock it!

Is that a baby crocodile on my shoulder?!

Yes, yes it is.

First off, I would like you to ignore the unflattering way the camera has captured my face because like every girl on this planet I have a problem with my face.

Not really, this is just a weird picture. I actually consider myself to be quite attractive, but this was the only photo I had with this little guy on my shoulder.

Is this going to be a post about me and my adventurous trip to Cuba? Nope.

It is, however, about the baby crocodile on my shoulder. It's all a big metaphor, see?

Writing for me, dear reader, had always been something scary, something big and up until last year, unattainable. But tonight, I have reached my midway point, 33k words! I took that step, mustered up all of my courage to reach out and make that dream tangible!

I have been debating with myself whether or not I should publicize the fact that my novel is going fantastically, hence the title of the blog. People say that you "don't knock it till you rock it," meaning that don't show your talents until you are absolutely sure of them.

That would also be the philosophy that I had grown up with all of my life and now I disagree.

The big, bad nobody disagrees. Cue the dramatic music.

I think you should rock every stage of this scary life, especially the terrifying moments. Rock every single one of them. Why? Because those are the moments that require the most courage, the insane amount of work, the most dramatic of panic attacks and let us not forget the mountain of criticism that diminishes every atom of self-esteem.

As if we aren't running low on it anyways these days. Right?

That's why I have decided to step up, post this weirdly taken picture of my usually flattering face and shout it out to you, dear readers, that I am half way through my novel. I am scared and excited and I am dreaming big. Just like I was scared to have a baby crocodile with razor sharp teeth chill on my shoulder, but I did it. And I survived (even though his mouth was tied and I could probably do more damage to him then he could to me, but nobody needs to know that!).

I want to remember this moment. The equilibrium between the place where I am practicing my interview on the Ellen show and the place where I am going to be known as the girl-who-failed.-and-had-her-dreams-crushed. The choice is mine and right now the only thing I am concerned about is the outfit I am going to rock at the Ellen Show.

This makes me happy.

 How about you, dear reader, when are you going to survive your baby crocodile?