Part I
While on a short walk, I observed a man, I’ll call him #homeless, albeit, I’m not sure. The upside-down orange bucket upon which he sat had the appearance of a sword practice target, slashes down one side, slits from jabs scattered from top to bottom.
This bedraggled man held a book with both of his hands, and stared at a page as if memorizing each word and punctuation mark. In one abrupt move, he threw the book to the ground like he was pounding a rock with a sledge hammer, stood and walked away.
I stepped closer to the scene. The book’s pages were water-warped, its cover frayed. Without my glasses, I saw enough of the words to know the story was a coming of age saga.
As I finished my walk, (ideas galore for writing running through my head), I wondered if the man on the bucket saw himself in the book, if the story was poorly written, or perhaps he couldn’t read the language, couldn’t read at all. But what if he kept trying?
Part II
New to Twitter, I was scanning photos and remarks, when one tweet appeared from an aspiring author. She wondered what she should do since she hadn’t received even one bite on her queries to literary agents.
I replied, “Keep Writing.”
Yes, I believe that’s the best advice anyone could offer because the more you do anything, the better you become. (Now that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t consider developing other talents, possibly related to writing and publishing.) Let’s say you’ve completed five manuscripts, and nobody you know wants to read them, let alone a publisher.
Compare the first page of each manuscript. Do you see improvement from first to last? Does one of them excite and compel you more than the other four? Could you, after additional practice and learning, rewrite a better version?
Part III
A couple years ago, maybe more, I entered the #Colorado #Gold #Contest. One judge didn’t understand what genre I was writing, and another said that the language I used was outdated. (I read a book this year, published by one of the “big five” that used similar language.) Subjective.
I started again, and again . . . on those first 4,000 words, which are much better now, but not quite good enough—for me. I’m improving. Meanwhile, a published author entered the same contest, and that individual didn’t win either. No way did he/she not keep writing.
The thing is, we have one life. So, slash the negative self-talk, stab the doubts, and most of all, #keep# writing!