To the Duplicitous Mr. Bradford,
I find your five-minute rejection of my query utterly appalling. I‘ll have you know, good sir, that I waited at least TEN minutes while you finished your ablutions in the men’s room of the Marriott before I pitched you my novel.
Clearly, the good people at Supernatural Fan-Fiction who included me in their “Top 100 honorable mention for slash fiction” list and the learned folks who voted me “Most Improved” at the Write a Song for Kesha site are able to recognize literary talent.
You sir, are a rube.
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Once upon a time I was great at everything.
In grade school I won every award imaginable (even penmanship), broke the record for the most gold stars and kicked some major ass at dodgeball. My high school years never saw a diet, a bad hair day or a pimple. And I was always asked to prom.
Then I started writing.
Like the survivor of some tragic car accident, I blocked out the exact moment when I first decided to write. I am only able to recall events of the aftermath; like a kitchen sink full of dirty dishes and a week’s worth of neglected showers. I even gave myself something called “ulnar palsy”, apparently caused by overworking my left pinky on the shift key. Really.
Since I started writing I’ve lost most of my hair, gotten hemorrhoids due to prolonged sitting and have developed a furrow in my brow that no amount of Botox can touch. I’m also shorter somehow.
But I can’t stop. I’ve never done ANYTHING I couldn’t master almost immediately, and I have become obsessed with the challenge of writing novels. Or short stories. Or essays. Bathroom stall literature. Anything.
It doesn’t matter what genre, what POV, or how many I write at the same time (I have three in various stages of completion), I am compelled to write. When I’m not writing I’m learning about writing, or publishing or marketing. And of course, reading.
What I find I do not do often is blog. There are so many characters and stories swirling around in my head that are infinitely more interesting than anything having to do with me, that I struggle to find something about myself to offer in a post.
So here I am: The world’s suckiest writer.
(My spell checker just let me know that “suckiest” is not a word.)
This is the first post of my first blog. I’m hoping this blog will be a way for me to continue to write and interact with other writers. I have learned so much over the course of the last two years in my attempt to educate myself as a writer. I am still learning but am committed to finishing the many novels I have in various stages of completion. (I know, this is big “don’t”). Anyone out there skip around as well?