Julie & Julia…. & Annie.

The movie Julie & Julia ended. The credits rolled. And I cried.

Like a baby. Like a “Get yourself under control, child!” kind of cry.

[I actually cried twice during the movie. But let’s not talk about it.]

I cried because the movie was full of me- the food lover, the blogger, the unpublished author, the woman.

I’m the blogger who makes decisions for her blog readers, celebrates the comments, and sometimes has to bring my blog life into submission to my real life. A common mantra around these parts are, “just remember- if the internet dies, so does AnnieBlogs.” Cause it can’t hurt to remember that every now and again.

I’m the cook who was raised to FEEL the food. To eat it, but more to experience it. Maybe it’s a Southern thing. Maybe it’s a family thing. Maybe it’s because of where AND who I come from. Either way, it literally pains me to eat healthy because, I’m going to be honest here, butter is what makes things lovely.

But more than any of those, I’m the writer. The author. Who is DYING for that letter or that call. Just dying for it. The call that says “your writing is legit and we have an offer.” The call that says, “Yep, keep working on that second book cause baby, the first one is going to press.” The call that says, “in the next year or so, you are going to open your mailbox and find a large envelope containing the first copy of your new book.”

I cried because I’ve been pretending that I don’t care if my book gets picked up soon or not. And watching both Julie and Julia live in that place of wanting to be a published author but not quite there yet, well, it killed my pretender.

Because I do care. I care so much. I care to point that I compose emails to my agent EVERY DAY and delete them because really, who wants to be that annoying girl who asks AGAIN if we’ve heard anything? [Not me.] Because somewhere, in this deep part of my chest- behind my ribs but before my backbone, is this place that gets almost cold and tight with desire. With hope. With the feeling that I was made to be a writer.

I cried because in the dark of that movie theater, surrounded by my dear friends, I remembered how much I want my dreams to come true.

Bon appetit.

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