I am a writer who came of a sheltered life. A sheltered life can be a daring life as well. For all serious daring starts from within.
I just found this quote. As a writer I have to know a lot about a lot of things. When people tell me I have lived a sheltered life, they are saying I have not had any difficult experiences, or drama, and that translates into no experiences. Therefore I have nothing to write about.
If there’s a Dollar Tree store in your town and you are an avid reader, you might be pleasantly surprised. I have found gift quality books at Dollar Tree: hardcover and quality trade paperbacks of short story collections, mainstream novels, bestsellers, mysteries, historicals and thrillers. It’s pretty much a grab bag selection. I have not found much of interest (to me) in their nonfiction and reference book selections. Today I bought a novel about Charles II and I passed up a true story about how the stolen painting by Norwegian artist Edvard Munch was rescued. A true life thriller. Maybe I’ll go back tomorrow and see if it’s still there.
I had a great aunt named Selma Serena. I thought Serena was a beautiful name and I thought it meant lilac in the Nordic languages. When visiting Swedes sang a song about lilacs, I thought they were singing about a flower, and a girl, named Serena. It was only very recently I realized that the word for lilac in Norwegian, Swedish, etc. is syren (or syrena) which is close to our syringa, the scientific name for lilac. One learns something new every day.
I love everything about lilacs, the scent, the colors (lavender, white, purple, pink and primrose), and the fact that they are hardy enough to thrive in our northern winters.
I found my file! I have been searching and searching. Folders, lists, online storage. So much depended on that file. My writing career, my daily activities, my life…just weren’t the same. I needed that file to go on. Yes, I did carry on. I went on to the next thing on my list. I worked hard. But in my subconscious, I knew I was being held back by my inability to locate that manuscript. Then I decided to start at the bottom of the list rather than plowing through from the top. And wouldn’t you know, there it was. My file. The words that would propel me through the project I longed to begin.
There is no one-on-one correlation between the work I do and how much money I earn. I am in retail and freelancing. Sometimes my activities are a complete bust . So I have decided, beginning Jan. 1, to assign arbitrary values to my work and to make the numbers add up to …who knows? Taking care of myself, my number one priority, is worth $100 if I do an hour of doctor prescribed exercise per day and if I remember to take all my medications. Completed creative works in any genre are also worth $100. Writing is worth five cents a word. Blog entries, $25. Linking and networking details are $10 each. And items posted on my website are valued at their sale price.
Looking back on the year, I have to admit my writing has fallen off in volume and quality. It was early in 2008 that I composed a story I submitted to one of those True magazines. I didn’t wait with baited breath but eventually, of course, it was returned with a form letter of regret. I have felt distracted. If there is any creative energy in me, it has failed to manifest itself in works I can share. Am I working as a freelance writer, or even a sometimes hobbyist? Not really. I have written copy, I guess, better than nothing.
I have, however, discovered a new venue for self expression….