"Hey," Tim said. "Did you hear about who won the Nobel Prize for Literature?"
"Yep," I said. I'd been feeling discouraged as of late. This writing gig is difficult. It's hard to carve out time to write much less find the inspiration to do so. Why did I try to do this again?
"You know something?" Tim continued.
"Nope." My head was buried in a book, as I was trying to help Zoe with her Great Sphinx report. To be honest, I was annoyed that he was bothering me. I'm sure the tone of my voice said as much.
"Did you know that Alice Munro first got published when she was 37?" His voice was hopeful.
"Yeah, well, I'm already three years past that." I'm sure my voice sounded petulant.
"And did you know that she had to write during her kids' nap times?" Tim added.
I paused and let his words sink in. I looked at Zoe, and said to Tim, "Thanks for that little tidbit."
I meant it, of course. Sometimes a small boost of confidence can keep a person going.