Although the title of this post is borrowed from a song, it has a significantly different meaning for me. A few months ago, I stepped outside of my comfort zone and sent my five books to a local address that belongs to the cottage of a Canadian film director with the hope my books would find their way into his hands. Sadly, I came home from work yesterday to find the same box I had sent had been returned to me undelivered. The cat came back, it just couldn’t stay away. It was sitting on the porch the very next day.

Although the ‘next day’ actually totaled a few months, the sentiment is still appropriate. As I ponder the misfortune of not having been successful in reaching this Canadian director, I have no choice but to put my faith in the adage ‘cats have nine lives’. This thwarted attempt to introduce myself was the end of life number one, but I still have eight more to go!

My writing journey has been a roller coaster, and as much as I detest the thought of being strapped into an uncovered train travelling at warp speed, I have embraced the ride. I have done my best to swallow the contents of my stomach before my fellow passengers become victims of being drenched in the gastrointestinal spray of my failed attempts, and I have given myself the courage to embrace the opportunity that lingers in those remaining eight lives.

The cat may have come back, but that emboldened feline is ready for the next battle. I will survive. I will not go gently into that good night. I will not go down without a fight. And one day, I hope the cat that came back will be battling the MGM lion to see who has the loudest roar.