“You may have the universe if I may have Italy."
Wait!! I'm a Writer!
I remembered something today while I was standing in line waiting to purchase my chips a hoy and Pepsi. It occurred to me much the way you might remember half way through your day that you forgot to turn off the coffee pot…urgent, yet not life threatening? I remembered that I am a writer. The reason the store line recollection is worth mention is because I might find it odd to have such a reminder since my coffee pot has a self timer which shuts itself off every morning- or in this case, every single day I public ally state at one time during the day or another, that my occupation is as a writer. I can not however, point to a single publication that will verify this absurd proclamation. That’s actually not entirely true because I do in fact have a couple things I could consider “published” if I were reaching up my own butt far enough (that was a rude analogy, sorry) There is this one literary work I once wrote that will in fact pop up if you Google my name, I read it often. And my senior year in high school (though it could have been eighth grade?) I’m pretty sure I got an honorable mention in that essay contest I once entered. I think I’ve created some pretty witty face book posts, and I know I can tweet with the best of them. Other than that….I got nothing.
My laptop would disagree (and its actually a desk computer) but either way, there is a folder under the documents icon which clearly reads “writing folder” and has many documents I’ve written within that folder. Click on it and I’m a bestseller on my way to the Pulitzer. But unless you have access to my one man fan club, I’ve got nothing.
There was this day (though it could have been a week?) when I stopped writing just long enough to take the time to study the market. I bought books, frequented libraries, and mastered the art of the query letter. I researched magazines, and grammar, and the do’s and don’ts of approaching editors. That was seven years ago (maybe is was five?) but I had become so obsessed with how to get published that my writing career turned into a text message conversation- always talking a bunch of crap but never having the conversation, and always looking down instead of around. (I’m sure that analogy only makes sense in my head but it works.) The world it seems would rather take 20 minutes texting a conversation then just making the phone call and being done with it. By the time I knew everything there is to know about getting published, I had written nothing I could submit for publication. Yet still, everyday, I will say it…I am a writer. But as of yet, I’ve got nothing.
I could blog away through my wittiest hours of the dawn, and ehow how to create the perfect candlelight dinner. Thank goodness for hub pages, where all journeying-to-publication writers can join and actually consider themselves published, and after all we’re working right? Even if we got nothing.
So perhaps this is my drop in the ocean, my wish in the well. So begins the ripple effect I intend on sending out into the universe with complete Faith it will in fact return. And I will remember to never again forget that I am a writer.