Not that it'll make *that* much of a difference, but let me assure you - in all the ways that I consider important - You Are A Writer. I say that as someone that's followed you and your writing from the 'asmallvictory. days.
And you're a darned good writer. I love reading your essays like this one, largely because it feels like a heartfelt conversation with a close friend. As one of my editors used to say: Your work is easy to edit, at least in part - because you've found your voice. You have indeed found your voice.
And yes, I'm published, but never made my living at it. There's a small chance that the fact I was a 'published author' gave me a leg-up on some jobs over the course of my career. My work was mostly technical stuff, not fiction. I've been urged (recently, even) to write fiction by friends that are 'published' authors - but I've always felt that I wasn't up to the task, even though I used to write almost compulsively when younger. I've got the same callus on my middle finger, down by the first joint where I too held the pencil in a veritable death grip. You may not be as alone in this as it appears that you feel.
FWIW - the feeling of inadequacy, of 'not being up to the task', is far more prevalent than you may realize, even in professionals in many fields. It's common enought that here's even a name for it. I had a variant of this during much of my career in IT. It's called 'Imposter Syndrome' - where you almost literally live in fear that at any instant, the world will find out that you're a fake, a sham, a charlatan - even when it was demonstrably false - based on past and even current accomplishments. So what you recounted, as you so aptly put it: resonates with me. The only way I found to overcome this feeling was to push relentlessly ahead, to finish on time, under budget, and meeting or exceeding all expectations.
I sincerely hope that the thanks and praise that those of us here, and wherever else you write - are sufficient to keep you writing. It's something I really look forward to. Literally - I get a smile on my face when I see the notice of a new essay in my inbox. Please don't ever stop - as sometimes, it's the only smile I have all day. Or - given the state of the world of late, even longer.
The creative process is subjective. I do web design. Some like it, some do not. I design for non profits, hence no payment. Re read this piece. You ARE a writer.
Anyone who writes is a "writer." Whether or not you make money is something altogether different. That's something I've wrestled with for years. I've had a succession of blogs for going on 21 years now, and I've made a few hundred bucks over they years, but that was never the reason I wrote. There were things I had to get out, things I needed to say, things I needed to express. Even if no one else cared, I did...and so I wrote for myself. Every now and then something I write hits a chord and resonates with readers. When that happens, it's an amazing feeling- like that one magic shot that golfers chase.
I love my Substack. I don't yet have a large readership, but I hope that will come with time. Perhaps it will become a "thing," perhaps not. Whatever the case, I still love the creative process. I still love seeing my thoughts on my laptop screen. Writing is the one thing in my life I'm absolutely confident about. I KNOW I'm a good writer, even if I also lacked the self-confidence to submit my work to publishers. Though I know I'm a good writer, I was never certain that others would recognize what I knew to be true.
I've self-published a book and am working on another. I've done some editing and would love to do more. There's just something about being around writing that makes me feel alive.
You'll know I'm dead when they peel my cold, dead fingers from my laptop.
I don't understand why you didn't pursue finding Jeff. Surely his employer knew his last name and would have given it to you. (It being in the time before all this privacy stuff nowadays.) I can only imagine the horrible feeling to know your writings were/are gone.
Michelle,
Not that it'll make *that* much of a difference, but let me assure you - in all the ways that I consider important - You Are A Writer. I say that as someone that's followed you and your writing from the 'asmallvictory. days.
And you're a darned good writer. I love reading your essays like this one, largely because it feels like a heartfelt conversation with a close friend. As one of my editors used to say: Your work is easy to edit, at least in part - because you've found your voice. You have indeed found your voice.
And yes, I'm published, but never made my living at it. There's a small chance that the fact I was a 'published author' gave me a leg-up on some jobs over the course of my career. My work was mostly technical stuff, not fiction. I've been urged (recently, even) to write fiction by friends that are 'published' authors - but I've always felt that I wasn't up to the task, even though I used to write almost compulsively when younger. I've got the same callus on my middle finger, down by the first joint where I too held the pencil in a veritable death grip. You may not be as alone in this as it appears that you feel.
FWIW - the feeling of inadequacy, of 'not being up to the task', is far more prevalent than you may realize, even in professionals in many fields. It's common enought that here's even a name for it. I had a variant of this during much of my career in IT. It's called 'Imposter Syndrome' - where you almost literally live in fear that at any instant, the world will find out that you're a fake, a sham, a charlatan - even when it was demonstrably false - based on past and even current accomplishments. So what you recounted, as you so aptly put it: resonates with me. The only way I found to overcome this feeling was to push relentlessly ahead, to finish on time, under budget, and meeting or exceeding all expectations.
I sincerely hope that the thanks and praise that those of us here, and wherever else you write - are sufficient to keep you writing. It's something I really look forward to. Literally - I get a smile on my face when I see the notice of a new essay in my inbox. Please don't ever stop - as sometimes, it's the only smile I have all day. Or - given the state of the world of late, even longer.
Thanks again from an appreciative reader.
-Brian.
The creative process is subjective. I do web design. Some like it, some do not. I design for non profits, hence no payment. Re read this piece. You ARE a writer.
Anyone who writes is a "writer." Whether or not you make money is something altogether different. That's something I've wrestled with for years. I've had a succession of blogs for going on 21 years now, and I've made a few hundred bucks over they years, but that was never the reason I wrote. There were things I had to get out, things I needed to say, things I needed to express. Even if no one else cared, I did...and so I wrote for myself. Every now and then something I write hits a chord and resonates with readers. When that happens, it's an amazing feeling- like that one magic shot that golfers chase.
I love my Substack. I don't yet have a large readership, but I hope that will come with time. Perhaps it will become a "thing," perhaps not. Whatever the case, I still love the creative process. I still love seeing my thoughts on my laptop screen. Writing is the one thing in my life I'm absolutely confident about. I KNOW I'm a good writer, even if I also lacked the self-confidence to submit my work to publishers. Though I know I'm a good writer, I was never certain that others would recognize what I knew to be true.
I've self-published a book and am working on another. I've done some editing and would love to do more. There's just something about being around writing that makes me feel alive.
You'll know I'm dead when they peel my cold, dead fingers from my laptop.
And Jeff went on to found Federal Express with an idea he got from your lyrics.
I appreciate your words, and your determination to keep putting them out there. Always happy to read them.
I don't understand why you didn't pursue finding Jeff. Surely his employer knew his last name and would have given it to you. (It being in the time before all this privacy stuff nowadays.) I can only imagine the horrible feeling to know your writings were/are gone.
the owner wouldn't give me his last name and address. he said he would tell him to call me, and i left my number but never heard from him
Well, that stinks. Let's put a stink-eye out on Jeff! Thanks for your reply.