These last 48 hours have been odd.
I received two rejections for different pieces I’ve submitted. Well, okay, I received one actual rejection, the other hasn’t had any response, but I can read the writing on the wall.
But there is something within me telling me to press on and write.
I sat and thought today about what I want to do with this blog, and what my fears are and if I am strong enough to face them without any battle armor. Because the truth of the matter is that when you write, you stand naked in front of people. And not only do you stand naked in front of people, you stand there in your god given suit in front of readers. Readers blast it all! The most educated, curious, and gawking group there is!
You let them see your bulges, your wrinkles, and the saggy parts of your skin that are no longer taut and dewy. You expose it all. In fiction you do this through character—but most intelligent readers realize that the really good authors, the ones who willingly undress on their pages, are a little “off”. They call this genius, but what they really want to say is “You are odd. But thank you for saying that because I did not have courage enough to stand naked, like you, in a room full of people wearing winter coats.”
For the writer, it’s all a bunch of show. Parading naked and begging, crying, pleading for people to look at your dilapidated mess,and like it. Like it! Blast it all! You want people to like your writing. You want it to make them think, you want to create images that will last in their memory. So, you glam up your writing with verbs and nouns. You try, try, try to not use adjectives. You bejewel your writing with concrete imagery. Jewels, make-up, a really great hair do, are things you do to feel less naked. To give you balls enough to put the words on the page and to let someone else read those words.
Naked is hard. Especially if you are out of shape. Especially if you doubt the size of your important parts.
And it is excruciating when you stand there naked and no one bothers to even gander at you.
This is the most deplorable thing of all.
“I’m NAKED here.”
“Thanks, but we’re not interested.”
In spite of this, I will write. Naked. Let my tummy pooch over my waist, let my thighs show some dimples. Maybe I’ll use more oil, make myself shinier. Maybe I’ll shave better, and make things a bit more proper, but whatever I do, I’ll muster the courage to walk out into that room of readers, lift my arms over my head and say “Here I am!” Because in writing, naked really is beautiful, lumps and all.
Battle armor is for wussies, not for writers.
