The only thing I can guarantee you is that if you love what you do and bleed on the page, you will find an enjoyment. In this uncertain time and an uncertain world you will find one motherfucking sliver of happiness. So go and gut yourself for the entire world to see.
Writers, artists, musicians, and creators: this is a MUST READ.
http://five2onemagazine.com/breadcrumbs-from-the-void-23-the-pressure-cooker-alex-schumacher/
So my sister pointed out some nanowrimo sprints on Twitter. And I was tickled and inspired by one of the prompts.. It was three words to work in the current section of your writing. GREATEST, BRAINWASH, HAMPSTER.
I found them delightful. So I wrote this poem…
The greatest thing
To clear the mind,
Leave all worry,
Work and woe behind.
Brainwash yourself
To enjoy all the simple things.
Sitting in a swing,
Enjoying the night air.
Forgetting for a while
That you even care.
Stop acting the hamster,
Running the wheel.
Expending all your energy,
Getting no where real.
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It’s been a busy two weeks, what with my being groomed and having my teeth cleaned and playing with all my buddies while James plays with his novel. That’s right, James is still editing. He tells me he will be for at least the next couple of weeks.
[Me before being groomed (edited).]
He told me editing is like my being groomed. First I get a wash (and treats) and then a blow dry (and treats) and a light brushing (many more treats) and then they start cutting. They especially do a close crop around my pads, ears and privates (special treats for those areas). Now, so you know, it isn’t only my hair they cut. They cut my nails, like a manicure/pedicure that humans get. (I’ll let you in on a little secret. No man is cured when this happens, if you get my drift.)
[Me after being groomed…
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As an Old English Sheepdog, I love to herd. I’ll try and roundup turkeys, robins, squirrels, chipmunks, porcupines and skunks. You name it. The other day I tried to make the tractor cutting our hay go towards the road. That was after I successfully got the two riding lawnmowers cutting our grass onto the driveway. I have the best time maneuvering around to get other four-legged animals and machines to do my bidding. Come visit and I’ll show you.
While watching me herd the other day, James came upon several ideas he asked me to share with you. He told me that herding was similar to his editing. There are different things to consider when changing text in his novel, like my herding and deciding in a nanosecond whether to turn right or left or back up or go forward – even to stop and think. The following are several…
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I’m back! No, I’m not Arnold. It’s me, Ollie, James’ Old English Sheepdog. The last time we met I told you about how James had been editing before we went for our walk. Well, he’s still editing. It seems that he does more editing than writing. (What is that? Is editing writing? Okay, so can I have a treat for that? Oh, goodie. I love treats.) James loves editing. It’s how he makes his writing better. It’s not that it’s bad when he writes it the first time. (What? No treat? But….) James says all writing is — he used a word I don’t think I should — “bad” until edited.
Like I was saying, James edits quite often. When we were out walking, he asked me if I would be so kind as to give you some pointers about what it is he looks for in order to correct…
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So….writing is at least for me the easy part. It is the part I enjoy. I have so many stories, poems and ideas floating around my head. Problem is the business aspects. Oh, editing? Yeah I can do that. I am even able to do the publishing, thanks to Amazon. I am not good at promoting what I have written.
I have been wary of submitting what I write. Part of the reason is because I am not inclined toward the rejection letters. While I know that the rejection letters are a part of writing, my poetry has always been a opening to my heart. My soul laid bare… So I was not willing to face the unending rejection. Which now seems like ego to me. My writing is good, but all writing can improve. Is having pride in one’s own words not a good thing? The other reason for my hesitant nature towards submitting is simple. I really hate the idea of someone else having the rights to my work. However I have seen some that claim rights to the work they publish. Not many, and I refuse to submit to any who do.
Well I have noticed that writer’s are often a solitary lot, I joined a few groups on social media. I was hoping to interact and gain tips on how to promote what I write. Maybe a few to make the words better. You know, be social with others who are into the same thing… And I found the darndest thing. Most of the social media groups for writers? Well it is everyone promoting their own books. No sharing, no discussion. So I have been going on, because the writing itself is really not a choice. I will be writing until I am no longer able…. Still the publishing thing… Well I do that so I can share with others a glimpse into my soul.
So I was in a bad place tonight because of yet another rejection. I posted it on social media. I really was hearing the same thing I always hear when I fail to accomplish something. My mother. So I posted for a change. I had a friend, also a writer(Kim Bailey Deal) suggest that I needed beta readers… Ok that was a new concept. She also introduced me to a group of writers who actually discuss writing. I hope that this will lead me to improving my craft, and maybe to some good new friends.
Dear Mama,
I love you. All that I have ever wanted was to feel like you were proud of me. I tried to be who you wanted. I found that didn’t work. Then I tried being myself. I found that I was happier, but you still were not proud of me. Mama I am fourty one, and I have succeeded. I am published. I am usually a happy soul. Yet when I fall, and I do occasionally fall. It is your voice in my ear, telling me you expected it all along. When I get rejected for my poetry, (as rejections are normal for the writer to recieve) that everyone else would tell me I wrote so well? I hear you telling me that you didn’t want to hear it because of how depressing it was.
Mama, I have published five volumes of poetry, three children’s books, and a novella. You know that family have hardly even acted like it mattered? I am doing what I told you I wanted to do at nine. I am a writer. So I may never be a novelist, children’s books still need written. I have never asked for much. Just a hey, that is awesome. Or even… Uh sharing it on social media that you have a daughter who is printed. So I put space between us. I admit that I was tired of feeling like you just didn’t care. I deserve to be someone who is cared about. I’m sorry that I was never the daughter you wanted, but Mama, I have always just been me.
Love always,
Your daughter.
Pattimouse 