A writer's life is not linear. It rises and falls, waves crashing. I've been up; I've been down. But I found myself thinking lately in the work that I do outside of writing: am I doing something that is worthy of my soul? So often, we think small. We diminish ourselves. We settle. It's odd, given that we each have a gift within us. Why do we shun our gifts? I don't have an answer, but I do know one thing. It's time to look up, rather than down. And maybe ask yourself: are you living a life that's worthy of who you are?