I bet you didn't know that September 17 is Past Loves Day. (It just so happens this is also my mother's birthday. She turned 86 this year.)
This past September 17, I submitted a short story for the Past Loves Day Story Contest. I just received a letter in the SNAIL MAIL (believe it or not!) telling me I received an Honorable Mention. What followed this announcement was a full paragraph of glowing feedback for my "powerful" and "compelling" story. (If you wish to read this short story, it will be posted in the coming weeks on www.ourpastloves.com.)
In this day and age, it is a very rare thing to find a REAL letter, of any sort, in the mailbox. But for the two editors of Spruce Mountain Press in Vermont to write personally to each winner of their contest displays a deep level of caring and a sincere love for the art of writing. On this gray and drizzly November afternoon, their note brought a warm glow of happiness. I felt heard and acknowledged.
Sometimes writing can be a very lonely profession. I love the part where a story suddenly presents itself and I get to follow it, hunt it down, capture it with words, and pin it to the paper. But once it is written, then comes the hard part. Is it any good? (I never know.) Can I fix what's wrong with it? (I'm not sure.) Should I share it? (That doesn't seem safe.) Will anyone like it? (Probably not.) I think I'll just sit on it for a while, like a mother hen on her nest, keeping those fragile eggs warm, while none of them ever hatch or see the light of day.
Thanks to this blog, and to you all, I have an outlet that does feel safe. When I can't manage to put my creative work, my fictional stories, out there in the mean and scary world, I can always sit down and share something simple with you. Maybe just a recipe for the pumpkin pie I made on Thanksgiving (I'll get that to you SOON!) or an anecdote about something funny that happened during yoga class. Perhaps this blog isn't deep or profound, maybe my musings aren't mind-shattering, but I hope you find something here that touches you on occasion. Maybe makes you laugh, or at least smile.
If so, that is good enough for me.
This past September 17, I submitted a short story for the Past Loves Day Story Contest. I just received a letter in the SNAIL MAIL (believe it or not!) telling me I received an Honorable Mention. What followed this announcement was a full paragraph of glowing feedback for my "powerful" and "compelling" story. (If you wish to read this short story, it will be posted in the coming weeks on www.ourpastloves.com.)
In this day and age, it is a very rare thing to find a REAL letter, of any sort, in the mailbox. But for the two editors of Spruce Mountain Press in Vermont to write personally to each winner of their contest displays a deep level of caring and a sincere love for the art of writing. On this gray and drizzly November afternoon, their note brought a warm glow of happiness. I felt heard and acknowledged.
Sometimes writing can be a very lonely profession. I love the part where a story suddenly presents itself and I get to follow it, hunt it down, capture it with words, and pin it to the paper. But once it is written, then comes the hard part. Is it any good? (I never know.) Can I fix what's wrong with it? (I'm not sure.) Should I share it? (That doesn't seem safe.) Will anyone like it? (Probably not.) I think I'll just sit on it for a while, like a mother hen on her nest, keeping those fragile eggs warm, while none of them ever hatch or see the light of day.
Thanks to this blog, and to you all, I have an outlet that does feel safe. When I can't manage to put my creative work, my fictional stories, out there in the mean and scary world, I can always sit down and share something simple with you. Maybe just a recipe for the pumpkin pie I made on Thanksgiving (I'll get that to you SOON!) or an anecdote about something funny that happened during yoga class. Perhaps this blog isn't deep or profound, maybe my musings aren't mind-shattering, but I hope you find something here that touches you on occasion. Maybe makes you laugh, or at least smile.
If so, that is good enough for me.
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