Living an imagined Life

I have been thinking about living in small triumphs. Where do you find your happiness? What about the novelist who never gets published? The musician who never gets a record contract? The artist who never has a gallery? Should they stop writing? Singing? Painting? Maybe it's not always about winning the Pulitzer Prize or the Grammy award or having your work hung in the most prestigious gallery. Is living only in the accomplishments?

I want to write, and while I would love to achieve some major success I realize that is not why I am writing. I am writing because I have to, because I have a little narrator in my head that comments on everything. Because I feel like if I didn't I would have to throw myself off a very tall building (and I am afraid of heights) I have so many stories to tell. So I think to myself, maybe dreams can begin as small dreams. Maybe just singing at an open mic night, selling your paintings at a sidewalk fair, or starting a blog...