Like the song by Linda Ronstadt, a dream is a wish that your heart makes. To lose a dream is to die a little yourself. It means closing down the part of you that can soar above the reality of your current life to see new and exciting possibilities.
Whenever she walks down a street, a friend of mine notices details of architecture, shapes and colors. As a child she fantasized about being an interior designer, but her parents, Italian immigrants, discouraged her from pursuing what they felt was an insecure way to make a living. I was crushed, she says, and the dream just died.
Our dreams are fragile. It is important not to talk about them at an early stage to anyone whom we sense will not support them. Often others project their own fears and doubts onto us.
I have known since my teen years that I wanted to write fiction. No one in my family supported my dream, because anything in the arts was considered unreliable. Nevertheless for years I managed to write and sell short stories and work on novels while holding down a full-time job. As rejection slips started pouring in, it became more and more of a struggle to keep my dream alive.
By then I realized...
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