Let’s hear it for the creatives who write because they must.
Who told you every word you write should be curated and vaunted with the likes of Dickens, King, or Hemingway? Where is it recorded? The promise my letters will be in front of the pack above all others and must be given priority on Medium escapes me.
Your writing is inspiring and full of wisdom. Your voice is unique and unparalleled. Why wouldn’t every thought be put on a pedestal to be loved by all eyes and souls? (These thoughts barrage my brain at various times throughout each week waiting to see my MPP results.)
Inspiration guides my creations.
Yes, I know inspiration is 99% perspiration and all that jive. It won’t come out unless we put pen to paper or type away. But, and it’s a big but, sparkle or a surge needs ignition in my gut before one word comes forth.
I have to have the mystic leaping-off point or pure drivel is the result of my efforts.
However, whoever reads my musings and self-thought perfection may not agree with my surmising concerning its quality. I find this to be the case many times.
What is worse is I may be looking for validation in a curator’s approval and acceptance. Why would a curator or Medium, for that matter, be concerned to make sure my needs are met?
Am I so entitled? Are you?
Weaving a story, developing as a writer, pouring my soul into generating spectacular letters of meaningful art consumes me. My dream is to leave great substance which entertains, informs, and spurs thought. Should one day my name be mentioned as a good author to read the honor will be beyond value.
Do I want to be remembered as a hack attempting to sell half-assed complaining and rambling or make imaginations take flight?
So much goes into fitting in categories on Medium in order to make money, get claps, or acquire fans. I didn’t begin to write for those reasons and my gut won’t let me write for them now.
Immortality is the goal.
My children will one day read my stories and articles after I have died. On that day my heart will be alive with them. On that day…