Today, I broke the 6,000 mark for views.
(6,004 to be exact). That was kind of a big deal for me. Now, I know that many other blogs have many more readers and many more views and many more comments…
But this is my blog. And enough kind people stopped by to read, hopefully laugh, and comment to create 6,000+ views, which is mind-boggling to me.
Since seven years old, I have been scribbling poems and short stories, then shyly bringing them to my parents to critique.
Feigning indifference, I’d off-handedly hand over the precious, crinkled paper, scuffed by impatient erasings, and pretend not to watch them read it.
When they finished, I’d ask carelessly, “What did you think?”, already shuffling backwards, just in case.
“I loved it,” they’d answer, perhaps more kindly than honestly. “You are a good writer, sis.”
Proof of their kindness is my first attempt at poetry, written at age seven, and which I was convinced was at least second, if not first, cousin to Shakespeare.
“There once were two mice
Who were very bad.
Which made their family very sad.
One brother’s name was Ted,
The other’s name was Fred,
And I hate to tell you
The things that they did.
They had a sister named Jennifer
And they liked to hide and jump on her
When she came around the corner.”
There was more, which I have omitted, more from shame than mercy. My parents very obviously love me.
From there, I graduated to short stories, poetry (can I honestly call it that?!) interspersed sporadically throughout. I think my first short story was a grand rip-off of Little House on the Prairie and Rikki Tikki Tavi, having just read both of them. It was an interesting mix, but somehow it worked, especially since I was grandly ignoring the fact that a mongoose would never inhabit a prairie. Cobras, of course, have been known to travel the world, so I gleefully introduced one as an antagonist, instinctively feeling that Ricky (don’t you judge me – it’s totally different) would be bored without one.
As I grew as a writer, I still brought things to my parents, more confidently now, but still with a sense of insecurity. Would they like it? Should I have used that word? Was there one more descriptive? Less controversial? (i.e. witchery.) I held, and still hold, that such a word was needed and was not supposed to be reminiscent of witches at all. I shall let you be the judge.
“Lilting, coaxing, pleading, teasing
The witchery of Music lures me
To an enchanted world of magic and wonder
A merry, elfin tune, ever changing, here
One moment, gone the next
Peeking ’round a corner, singing
Out, “Catch me if you can!”
I reach out longingly, stretching my
Hands toward the elusive promise of
Music – almost capturing, but not
Quite, nearly grasping but never
Totally. Then, like the will-o-the-wisp
She is, Music suddenly
Turns – and captures me.”
I ask you: did it not work? Even so, my parents remain my best, and most supportive, critics, though we still can’t agree on that word.
However, I find, especially recently, that my group of trusted critics has grown substantially, and if you are reading this – you are one.
Often, I have written a post and then sat and stared at it. Have I clearly expressed my stance? Too clearly? Been judgmental? Wishy-washy? Is this funny? Or just silly? Did I…
Then you chime in.
Writers by nature desire an outlet for their message, for have you ever read an amazing book and simply sat for a moment, basking in the afterglow of a well-told story? Then almost instantly, you look about for someone to share the moment with, someone who will love it as you did?
That’s what this feels like. I have enjoyed thinking aloud on this blog and even more enjoyed it when you broke into my stream of consciousness, perhaps sharing a like experience, giggling over a funny event, or just saying “I like this.”
I like when you like this, so…thank you.
I appreciate you all.