Write, or Wrong?

I wish that I could be a full-time writer. I have ideas out the whazzoo. I can compose both on computer as well as the old-fashioned way. On paper. (I could probably carve it in stone, but typos are hellish). I write like a fiend and can get upwards of 4,000 words on a given day. But I can't write full time. I have a 9-5 day job (more like 9 - 7 day job, and let's not forget the commuting to and from). I have to earn a living. I have to pay the (continually increasing) bills. Why? Because creation doesn't pay well. Not even Mary and Joseph raked in the dough.

To those writers who can afford to write as their job, I offer a hearty, Bravo! And I ask that you always remember that you have reached the pinnacle and are enjoying the existence that so many of us aspire to.

I read blogs, emails, check loop postings. And I see the laments of people dealing with all the mundane details of getting by, and having to put their beloved writing aside.

I, like those other folks, don't have as much time as I want to write. But I'm fighting back. I'm using my commuting time. I'm using lunch hours (either to hit the library or to wait til my bosses are gone to lunch and then work at my own designs.). I have never been a white-glove kind of housekeeper, which is a good thing, because the dust bunnies are starting to form unions. I have set my priorities. Sure, my credit card companies would prefer that they were on the top of the list, but face it, they're not.

Today I had dozens of emails to answer (I am, apparently, physiologically incapable of saying no to any request to volunteer and so am doing things for various writing groups that keep me from, ironically, actually writing). I responded to announcements of various and sundry successes in the writing biz. I offered solace and support to writers suffering tough times. I participated in a few fun writing endeavors that won't help me in the immediate ways, but, actually, are great for generating enthusiasm, helping me just keep the words flowing, and in the end, make me a better writer.

I also spent a good hour on advice for a fellow author whose manuscript I have been reading and reviewing for several months, and which I offered to make suggested changes to when my comments were not clear. So that's another drain on what might have been my private writing time.

Recently a published author intimated that the writing community - a generous, supportive, friendly, funny, prolific bunch - are wastrels. Losers. Talking, not doing. And if you accept the guilt by association concept, that means I am a loser.

Since that day, I have ceased corresponding with someone I initially thought might become a good friend. But her success obviously has blinded her - or perhaps she is just lucky enough to have a shitload of money and free time with which to indulge her writing (unlike the rest of us)- to the fact that we all need to be loved. Liked. Encouraged. None of us can work, or create, in a vacume.

Maybe I could use my time to be writing and moving myself faster along the path to publication. Maybe I should conserve my creative juices for my own endeavors and let the rest of the writers flail about, succeed, or fail, on their own, without my input. Maybe the writing community of which I am a part can do without me (surely they can - only hubris would say they cannot) and I don't need to dedicate my enthusiasm and expertise to these various and sundry groups.

But the sense of spirit and community empowers me. It gives me heart when I hear of others getting a contest win, or a request by a publisher for a submission, or - thrill of thrills - making a sale. So, no matter how much longer it may take me to reach those milestones, no matter how much of my energy I dedicate to causes other than my own, I'm going to keep on keeping on. I'll share my "juice" and hope that the energy sent out by me over the internet to all the friends I've never met, will come back to me, like writing karma.

So, to the author who thumbed her nose at my community, to the few who have not taken me up on my contributions, well, nuts to you.

I'm here to stay. And when I get published, I'll know who to thank.

And it won't be you.

What I didn't do was write.

An Old Feminist Speaks Out

OK. So it is Martin Luther King day - at least the day we celebrate it. And I have been thinking about discrimination, racisim, sexism, religious persecution. You know, all that fun stuff. Man's inhumanity to man. And I've come to the sad conclusion that nothing much has changed. Oh, sure, there is a thin veneer of civility among the more urban areas. Not so much in the Red States, though, and even here in My Blue Heaven, New York City, there is enough discrimination that I fear we will never really change.

I've heard a party girl insist that the Bible claims homosexuals are "an abomination against the Lord" and should die. Having Googled the passage I think she referred to, I wanted to point out to the former Jehovah's witness turned serial fucker, that "sodomites and adulterers" might well include others - such as herself. Since the term "sodomy" has a lot of people puzzled (hello, it's not just knocking on the back door, folks, if you do the on-your-knees worshipping the lollipop bit, you're just as guilty. Then there is adultery. How many of our staunch family value proslyetizers fall into that category? Hey.,RUUUUUUUUDY!.

Beyond that I have watched African American's insult Hispanics. Men insult women. Folks of various religious persuasion diss another. I can't tell you how many "Accept Jesus or die" chain letters I've gotten on my office email system. What's up with that? We have a "discrimination and sensitivity" committee that doesn't put a stop to anything. At all. Not sexual harrassment, not job harrassment, not religious, sexual, racial. Nada. nothing.

As a woman who was raised int he 1960-1970 feminist heyday, I haven't seen much change. Women have gotten better jobs. They make some more money (but still not on a par with men), but even when they are running for the highest office in the land they are treated like a little housewife who's too big for her britches. So, she stood by her man when he went astray? Can we say Christian forgiveness? So she got a little teary on the campaign trail. I'd opt for teary over that sulfur smell I'm getting from some of those Red candidates. She's got a mind and she's used it, and for that she's pilloried as cold, sterile, or the unfortunate "B" word. Hell, the way things stand, a Queen "B" might be the only thing standing between this country and third world status. At least she's not trying to impress anyone with the size of her balls!