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The Thirty-Year Old Version

Desperate for a breakthrough as she nears the big 3-o, struggling Indiana writer Miya finds inspiration by reinventing herself as a rapper. (If you've never seen The Forty-Year Old Version on Netflix, you are not going to get the refrences in this post! Go watch it!!)


I was not given a 30 Under 30 award, but I have returned home after three years living in South Korea. And the feelings of being only as good as your last accomplishment, touch starved, and a sell-out for wanting to give up on your real dreams are familiar enough to make this modern film noir too relatable to laugh at.


Two questions I'm tired of being asked:

1. Are you happy to be home?

2. What are you gonna do now?

First of all, I wouldn't use a basic word like happy, but I'm cool or whatever *shrug* I'm here. And, it's been seven hours..and thirteen days...Go watch the movie Soul and stop asking me what I'm doing. I'm enjoying my tap water. Stop asking me about the ocean.


The most shocking thing about being home is the amount of people, specifically my family members, asking me about my second book. I just wanna know who the plug is, telling my whole family about this book. Cause I know all these baby boomers are not reading my blog.


I've sent about eight queries to various publishing agents. I've recieved two rejection letters so far. And at this point, I'm not even sure if I'm invested in the book anymore. One: because it's taken five years to write it. Two: because I feel unqualified to tell the story itself. Three: ...honestly the story is borderline poverty porn. *cringe*


Last week my therapist (in so many words) suggested that I write about my real life experiences rather than writing fiction.


Me:









Am I supposed to throw away the 250-page manuscript I spent all of 2020 rewriting!?

Let's pray that one of my queries gets accepted cause I don't have a friend/manager like Archie, willing to risk it all in the name of my success. And I'm not even sure if the story is worth it anymore. I would much rather start a whole new story, than rewrite this one for the umpteenth time.


And Let's also pray that this agent is the D to my RadhaMUSprime cause I need someone to back me up and tell me that I'm not waisting my time.


I did not mean to rhyme...


"I just wanna be an artist!..Tell me what to do!!"



The sarcasm and the rap are all jokes but the feelings are real! And sorry for the cursing but I am not gonna censor myself. Because if/when this second book comes out..these little bars are gonna look like child's play.


To keep it really real, I need to find a hobby, a job, or both cause sitting in the house, watching youtube all day is making my days feel so mundane. And just yesterday, I was thinking about the quantity and the quantity of my friendships. How did I just buy a car but have nowhere to go? Like what was the point? To flex and let the car sit in the garage!?


I might have to just start taking drives to nowhere just to get away. Taking myself on dates like I've done a few times in Korea.


Please, don't feel sorry for me. I'm just in a transition period trying to figure out what it is that I want. But if youre still reading this thanks for staying along for the journey. We can only go up from here, right!


By the way...Happy National Poetry Month, to all my fellow poets and lovers of poetry and spoken word. *snap snap snap*


Like I said, if you haven't watched The Forty-Year Old Version its worth the watch, especially if you are an artist.


Xo,

Miya Marie~


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