Hope, beautiful and luminous hope, suffuses our enterprise. I picture it as pink or perhaps a pale, lovely green.
“Hope” is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -
And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -
And sore must be the storm -
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm -
- Emily Dickinson
Writers have an energetic belief that success is just around the corner, that this book, query, contest, agent, publisher will be the one. We're living the dream--our dream. And if one avenue doesn't work, then we'll try another. Right? And our friends will cheer us on.
Success is sweet. But so is hope and a sense of possibility.
