I’m sitting at my desk today chomping the last bite of an apple. Dinner looms on the horizon, but I’ve eeked out a bit of time to check my emails and read for fun.
These words were first written a few months ago. As I edit, I’m sipping lukewarm coffee. The birds are singing as dawn spreads across the bruised sky. Light rain comes and goes. I’m distracted with worry about the stray cats I feed. I haven’t seen them in a few days. I turn my attention back to this post, wanting to keep a commitment to myself.
I have soooo many Substacks to sift through. While I enjoy newsletter format, this place sometimes feels like long-form social media. With all the competition, it’s easy to get lost and overwhelmed.
Oh, and I’m typing these words before the sentiment leaves me.
If I don’t snag an idea, I risk losing it. Poof! It vanishes into the ether. Do these ideas float to the next writer? I’ve often wondered about this. What do you think?
I am a writer. I may never make any money at it other than the $50 I won for a Celebrity Vampire contest years ago. Ask me who I chose for my vamp in the comments and I just might tell you. I’ll just say my choice really upset some people. It wasn’t the usual suspect. That’s what made it so fun.
I love to write. I write fan fiction and I write here and I scribble on little notebooks and use my phone notes app at 2am half groggy in bed. I love the odd things I write late at night, half asleep. Sometimes, I have no clue what I meant. It’s as if a stranger picked up my pen in the middle of the night. Have you ever done that? It’s fascinating.
I love words. I caught a snippet of Brandon what’s-his-name talking about the difference between surrender and giving up. Same thing, yet different. Words have nuances. Which ones you choose can make or break your story. You might not hit the right note, so to speak, if you use a word whose connotation is not quite the same as its denotation. (Connotation is implied meaning, and denotation is the definition of a word.) The “wrong” word might not fit your situation - or worse - it might sound like you’re trying too hard.
A lot of what I say here doesn’t stir even the slightest breeze - and that’s okay. Every once in awhile, I connect with someone - even if for just a quick, meaningful comment - and that one person matters to me.
I am an ordinary writer. I have moments where my words soar, and my heart flutters with ego and awe.
Then, I crash because I stink at finishing things.
I post here on Substack but I have novels living inside me. Several stories linger in files both paper and digital. I hope that if I keep writing, bit by bit, I’ll take one big story of mine to the finish line.
I once had dreams of becoming a published author. One who made a living with my words, and while I haven’t totally discounted that life, I’m content to simply write. For me. For you, maybe.
Here’s to making an ordinary life of words! And what a delight it is to be invisible.
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