Trust In Yourself

Currently reading - Flesh Circus by Lilith Saintcrow

Back in my college days, I taught archery at a summer camp. During a church camp, the minister asked to accompany me and the children. It's always nice to have an extra adult with a group of rowdy 9-11 year-olds, so I said, "No problem."

On the walk to the archery range, the minister made some remarks to the boys of group. Something to the effect of they need to listen to the instructor but then he'd teach them how to really shoot.

Yeah, I was miffed, but I showed the kids how to set up the targets, how to string the bows, and how safety was paramount to everything else. I selected and nocked an arrow, raised the bow, and drew the string back to my ear.

The arrow buried itself dead center of the target. A collective gasp, then excited shouting rose behind me. I looked skyward and whispered, "Thanks," before helping the kids get started. And the minister never moved from the bench in the lean-to behind the safety line.

Quite frankly, I've never hit a bull's eye without warming up, so part of that day was luck and part of it was confidence in the face of adversity.

It's no different with writing. Part of your success is the willingness to learn, to practice, to go on no matter what anyone says about your skill or ability. Part of that same success is having the right product at the right time--in other words, luck.

If you want to be a writer, put in your time at the keyboard. And a little good fortune never hurts either.

Why You Never Know. . .

Twenty-five years ago, I met a girl in my sorority who refused to tell anyone her birthday. Her peers consistantly voted her most popular; she was always invited to parties, always had dates for the weekends. But during her junior year in high school, her parents threw a gigantic birthday bash. They rented a hall and had the affair catered. She invited all two hundred kids from her class.

No one showed up.

Fast forward two years and a half years later. The perennial nerd, I learned the local independent station would air the premiere of the new and long-awaited Star Trek series, The Next Generation, as their Friday night movie, a day earlier than they originally announced. Knowing all my sisters would be out of the suite for parties, dates, etc., I planned my geek evening.

Until two friends nagged the truth from me of why I will not go out with them that night. Well, Anne-Marie was dating Martin, who was not only a sports god on campus, but only other physics major in our class besides me and a fellow Trekkie to boot. He stalked up to me in the cafeteria during supper. "Why the hell didn't you tell me WAUB was airing the new Star Trek early?"

I had no illusions about my popularity. Anne-Marie and Martin were the ones everyone followed. But Martin wanted to watch Star Trek, so the next thing I knew my lovely evening alone had turned into a sorority/fraternity mixer. Before air time, I stood before the crowd in our suite and threatened the lives of anyone who spoke at any time other than commericals.

And surprisingly, the crowd of normally rowdy Greeks was absolutely quiet during the entire two hours.

The point of these two stories is simple. You can make all the plans in the world, but the universe has her own rules. And she has a wicked sense of humor.

So don't fret because your writing career isn't proceeding according to your outline. Keep your head and keep working. You don't know what's coming around the corner.

Oh, and about the universe's sense of humor-

I was teased incessantly over my preference for tea instead of coffee by my friends. So when Capt. Picard ordered, "Tea. Earl Grey. Hot," on that first October evening in 1987, every head in the room turned to stare at me. In my hands? You guessed it--a cup of Earl Grey.