I have heard that writing is a socially acceptable form of getting naked in public. The worst and best parts of you are exposed! Writers, or in my case a part-time writer, spend so much time trying to determine when they will be a “real” writer. Just like the stereotype that all accountants have green lampshades, the stereotypes about writers persist, whether accurate or not.
I felt like I was stripped naked a few weeks ago, baring my soul for anyone to peer in and see my humility. You see, I had entered a ‘short story’ contest, an annual rite with the Beachburg Fair. I was hopeful of maybe a third-place finish at best as I was challenging the Beachburg crew which was laden with writing talent. When the Whitewater News editor contacted me on opening day of the Fair to congratulate me on coming in first, I was both surprised and exhilarated. That rare but special feeling stayed with me until it was upended by the contest organizer who called on Monday about my prize money. She diffidently mentioned that I had indeed won but … was the only contestant. A black cloud seemed to envelope my body, at least disguising my nakedness. My first thought after recovering was one of me shadow boxing where I accidently knocked myself down. Who won?
I deliberated that short story result for days. Was the competition worried about my writing skills – not likely — or lack of motivation? Maybe the prize money was too little, unlike the Toronto Star competition which paid five ‘big ones’ to its winner. Of course, the Star had over 1,000 applicants to select the best story from, not just one.
I always wanted to be a writer. In high school, Shakespeare took time away the English composition classes that gave students a firm foundation in basic writing skills. I much preferred composition! As a hobby, I sometimes wrote movie and book reviews then compared them with the authentic reviews that appeared afterwards in newspapers. My perception improved over time. I never told or showed anyone my secret accomplishment. Then came the one-on-one career day meeting with the high school’s guidance counsellor. It began with his question of, “What to you want be when you are finished school?” I was prepared for this: “I am interested in being a sports writer, and will pursue that by applying for a junior position with the Pembroke Observer.” His response to me was remarkedly painful. “You should be a banker or a teacher.” He sputtered out a few more career choices as my head sank to my chest. When his tirade ended I slid from the chair and out the door, slamming it with all my might. I wanted to kiss that school goodbye forever but final exams were nearing. I did play hooky for two days just for spite. I could imagine what a broken wild horse must have felt as my spirit was broken too.
In the workforce, I was requested more and more for involvement in technical writing, whether a report or instruction manual, summarizing the results of some research project or even critiquing reports written by others. It’s not that I understood the subject matter in depth, it was because I could mold the information into being user-readable. I thrived on these opportunities. It was easier than working!
I didn’t even know I could scribe until editor Connie Tabbert got wind of my interest in a broadsheet newspaper. We met and moments later she tossed me the office key without references or a police check! I was at last comfortable in my own skin, a part-time employee with the Cobden Sun. This newspaper had been published for more than 100 years. I have been writing for about three. It would be very unlikely if anything I wrote could compare to the dozens and dozens of those who creatively played with words before my time but I like to believe I made a small dent.
Writing is generally considered a creative “right-brain” activity; you don’t have to turn off the left-half to be a writer though. It is said that prolific writers can read their own mood. Am I prolific – I’ve had a weekly column in Whitewater News for more than a year. On creative days, I can crank out the words but on left-brain days I have to scrutinize my wits to come up with a topic before the deadline.
