SOMETHING NEW.

I'm aiming for eloquence. Let's see how I do.

Two months ago, I turned 29.

A little while before that, I made this account.

I never did anything with it - but this week, as I was re-reading the words I shared on my birthday, I realized that perhaps this platform would be a good home for my words.

A place to lay down my yearning.

That being said:

Howdy! I’m McKenna Lynn.

A collage artist, voracious reader, graphic designer, writer, (*over*)thinker, creator, historian, human with severe anxiety.

I’ve been trying to put myself out there, push myself out of my comfort zone, for the last year or so, and - well - it hasn’t killed me yet.

I’ve been actively submitting my writing to various lit mags and platforms; my artwork was selected to feature in an upcoming gallery show in St. Pete, and I’m working on a handful of submissions for juried contests in my area; I’m finishing up edits on my first full-length manuscript, a tenderhearted contemporary romance that leans toward the literary, that I may or may not self-publish; I’m knee-deep into two other manuscripts, and too many short stories to count; I’m trying to give myself grace, to fight the nagging, negative thoughts that tell me I’m not worthy, that tell me it’s all for nought.

And hell, is it hard.

And it hasn’t gotten easier - but maybe, over time, it will.

And so, I continue.

Reading the words I offered myself on my birthday two months ago gave me a much-needed boost in morale today - and so I thought I’d share them here, too. I’ll be coming back to these musings again and again, for comfort and courage. Perhaps they will offer the same to you.

//1// GOLDEN

Next year will be my golden birthday—but this morning I lay in the grass and felt the sun’s thick presence warming every inch of my body, bathing me in its resplendent glow; I imagined its cheeks were the same shade of pink as mine, rosy with gratitude for the wonder of existence. I lay in the grass and felt the wind as it whipped and groaned and sang, only taking a break to bend down and drop kisses along my skin, smooth and soft and so, so warm, like a bath or a dip in a favorite lake, blanketing, an embrace you hope will never end.

Next year will be my golden birthday—but She shows me, every day, that I am already aglow. 

//2// RISK-TAKER

28 is the year I took a chance on myself.

I wrote a book; I entered the trenches; and I landed on the other side with a battered and weary heart, but also a fire blooming inside my chest from embers that have always been there, banked and waiting for a breath. I took a chance on myself, and I’ll keep taking chances. I’ll keep growing, and I’ll keep glowing, and over time, perhaps my dreams will flutter down into my reach. Into my outstretched, calloused palms. I’m working hard—to prove myself, to myself. Who knows what this next year of life will bring? I can’t wait to find out.

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