Writers can be suspicious people. I am related to a somewhat famous author. He won’t talk about writing and never offers to give any help. I figured it was just a personality trait.
You see, I’m a pretty open and honest guy. Well, as much as a writer can be. I’m glad to talk about writing and share the paltry bit I know. Thus I started this blog. I’m finding that not many others share this trait with me.
I knew an editor who was younger than me. I’m not exactly wet behind the ears, I have to admit. So this younger editor was, I suppose, a little suspicious of this older guy who contacted him out of the blue. Still, he took my card and said he’d be in touch.
Deep down I suspected he might be a writer. I have no idea what he thought of me. After he left his company to go off on his own, I contacted him and asked if he’d like to talk about writing. Silence. Not a word.
You have to understand that I’m an introvert. Pushy is about the last adjective anyone could ever pin to my lapel.
I doubt I'll reveal too much if I say I was once a teacher. Once a teacher, always a learner. Teachers—good teachers—know that you need to show someone how to do something. Editors are often poor teachers. They find a one-line rejection more "efficient" than helping a promising writer along. Sometimes they even charge for feedback.
So my colleague the editor does not wish to discuss writing. This I find odd, as writing is wanting to be heard by someone else. Is a voluntary listener too eager?
Like many born writers, I can adapt to the needs of the moment. Like Holden I can be descriptive as hell. Like Ulysses, I can be a minimalist. Tell me what you want. Tell me who I am.
The greatest irony is writers who won't talk. Nobody comments on this blog. I dwell in the house of irony. Alone.
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