Illiterate but maybe sometimes funny Muse
Someone (a Published Author, no less) recently asked me the following question: "What type of things do you enjoy writing?"
Here is my reply:
First off, let me say: "Wow! You are PUBLISHED!" Accompanied by the whole bowing down several times with my arms outstretched in a gesture of humility and awe. (And if I "accidentally" slap you in the process, it's out of sheer envy.)
Well, I suppose I have been published if we want to get technical and count my brief stint as a reporter at a community newspaper in Johannesburg, South Africa, where I completed my journalism internship. They were desperate and horribly understaffed, and so I was assigned to the sports desk. This was oh-so-ironic on many, many levels... not the least of it being that I knew nothing at all about sports. And if you know anything about South Africa, it's an absolutely sports crazed place. Talk about being shoved into the deep end!
I survived, albeit just barely. Even had some fun along the way. But it was also there where I found out that journalism (at least, newspaper reporting) is definitely not for me. See, journalism as a study field just seemed so Hemingwayesque at the time. And, if truth be told, after writing for as long as I can remember (yes, even before I knew how to actually form the letters) journalism just seemed like a logical choice for me.
I've tried breaking away from writing many times though. Let's face it (and you may or may not relate to this. And life will be VERY unfair if you don't!): Writing can be brutal.
So I've repeatedly rebelled against it; deliberately shunning the computer and my diaries, telling myself that I don't have any talent (my writing style has never been "literary" enough in my opinion, and so I thought - and still sometimes do, since I'm my own and seemingly unbeatable enemy - that my frivolous and humorous (well, hopefully humorous!) style has no use in the world.)
But my attempts to stay away from words never last very long.
Because when you have ink coursing through your veins, you need to release it from your system every once in a while.
And so, in fits and starts, I do.
Through it all I've managed to do some freelance work. I've also entered a few competitions (and actually and miraculously managed to get a few bits published in a few publications that way), and thanks to another writing contest, I recently even became a part of the blogosphere, where I manage to sadistically torture my approximately three loyal readers on a somewhat regular basis!
I'm ever so slowly learning to live with the fact that, although my ink may very well never leave the same royal blue imprints on literature as that of so many of the writers whom I adore, I might just make someone somewhere smile with my own drivel one day.
And really, that ambition is what keeps me pushing ahead. After all, isn't the ability to make a connection with someone what all artists strive for in the end?
P.S. Update: This post has been in draft form, and I've just noticed over at Helen's that I'm not alone on this Writer's Quest. Although her ink-blood is most certainly royal blue.
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