One week ago I literally left my cocoon and turned into a moth. I had hoped that I would transform into a beautiful butterfly, but maybe next time I crawl into a cocoon, I might have better results.
One transformation took place at the SCENE SEMINAR 2011 that the Kansas Writers Association hosted. I had been leery at first, because I had never heard of the author. My friend and I researched the author and my hope fell for he was not published by a major company. How could he be a revered writer in the community if he wasn’t widely known? Personally circumstances ordered me to commit to the lecture and I over-drafted my account. Hmmph. Like you and your spouse communicate a perfect budget! The morning came and I hounded my chauffeur to get up on his day off at an insane hour. We arrived refreshed with the beat of Apocalyptica. My soul remembered that I wanted to live, breathe and dance with the life around me. My fingers felt the energy tingle and dance.
KWA members and non-members were friendly and respectful. For weeks, I had not known what to expect. That morning, I didn’t know if I would walk out of the Valley of Darkness and live to tell about it to friends and family. The hotel staff helped me settle in. Facebook authors knew my face and my name! Breathing in, I found life buried under the scars. Kirt Hickman, novelist and author of Revising Fiction: Making Sense of the Madness started with an open lecture. Although many others felt comfortable enough to openly discuss problems in their projects, I hid my light behind the closest bush. However, Mr. Hickman cast his hook and drew me in with a well picked bait. I could see why he was a respected author. Although I had finished a project dear to my heart, I knew it was missing something grand. I needed the people around me like a single oxygen atom desires two hydrogen atoms to make life. The words that strummed in that day held the very foundation that my notes needed to perch, organize and create a song.
One stranger suggested that I write about my journey over that last two years that include two surgeries, crutches, sitting and a threatened third surgery. Okay, here goes…Wonderful life, stupid injury, lots of pain, therefore it sucks. I don’t want to write about my life. I don’t want to depress others; I want to write about fun things. Fun and inspiring things had brought me to the conference in the first place. Sure, I have slightly abandoned one project, but I have a driving force persuading me to share my creative talent with the world. Many times, I had wanted to change into something I wasn’t and failed. One reason that I am afraid of professional writers is that I feel like writing is the last thing I have going for me. Ever since I was little, I was told that I had a talent in creative writing. It’s time to mold it and make it in to a goblet.
Opening my mouth, I had been afraid of being looked down upon, again. I had shown my ignorance of the writing field at the winter party. However, staring eyes did not feel like darts, they felt like a community of mothering cats. Each one had something different to offer in the pride. There might be some discouraging thoughts since I have more to edit in my project, but I remember that published or not that I want to bless others along the journey.
What impressed me about the author was that he didn’t mix care with business. He had been there for us and not to promote himself. He did not put himself on top of a totem pole and tell us to bow to him. He sincerely wanted to help us improve ourselves as writers. I started writing books because my friends, family and some business associates loved my newsletter that I published. They encouraged me to write my tips and jokes in a book. I have mothers who are mad at me that I placed that book on a back burner because they want to read all of it. Snagged by technology, I admit that I tried to reach more fans by word of mouth. That fateful “scene” in my life written by someone else, reminded me that I have to be me whether I be critiqued by people or not. My passion has always been hidden behind excuses of daily life, but no more. I never wanted to give up walking to write, but life found a way to make me sit down and prioritize. Facebook has already given me fans greater than the number when I published my newsletter.
Here, my fans, I give you my soul…steam it up, drain it right and know that I keep my promise to be a better writer and benefit you like you desire. May you learn from those around you, whether they are your friends or your foes.