Diary of a Middle Age Woman Writer

Inept

When I finally reach my level of potential, it will be like the meme of sliding into Heaven sideways with a well used body. The difference will be that my arrival will be backward as well as sideways and upside down, most likely as a loner, straggling far behind the back of the pack.

I am not the best candidate for conformity, especially where my writing comes into play. Other things, where I can see the benefits of being stickler for details, yes, I can conform. My creative writing? Ok, writing in general? No flipping way, and while I am at it, let me acknowledge being the worst possible example of a rebel.

I can say this because a marvelous friend described me as a bad riddle because I couldn’t quite be figured out. When they thought they had me or my motivation figured out, I threw a curve ball from the dugout.

Yes, my pitch is physics defying because it would be over home plate and in the strike zone despite where it originated. It might seem backwards to those who pound the keys and make headway, but it dawned on me – I am go ass back ward all by myself.

This is my path to becoming a better writer. That isn’t my biggest hurdle. Neither is putting myself out there. It is in conforming to the tried and true marketing techniques that work for others. They are foreign because I am not ready yet, and mostly because I don’t feel comfortable doing that.

The public can be cruel. I know that. And I can be one of them. But to stand up against that cruelty and judgment with strength, you have to have conviction. To be at the place where I am convinced that this is my path and this is my way to progress as a writer, I have to know this is what will lead me to being the writer I want to be.

Then, and only then can I market the hell out of my work. I am not there, yet. But, buddy, believe me, I am getting there. And it is going to be good when I get there, or I will die still trying, very old and gnarly.

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5 thoughts on “Inept”

      1. Wow! First the illusion of fantom wood burning, only to turn out to be the arcing from a neighbor’s trampoline on their power line took out a hole in the pole, and now a stalker. My year is turning into quite an exciting adventure.

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