The Seven and The T-shirt - Writing 101 – Day 47

I am not a morning person, and I have the sneaking suspicion this is going to be a meandering post. Not because it is morning, but because I got up quite early this morning. I have been sleepy all day. Normally I wouldn’t be writing now, but I feel like I should be. Maybe it is the writing challenge, maybe it is this habit I am building, but I haven’t published a blog post in a few days and I feel that I should.

Of course, I started the worst way. You never start by telling the reader how awful something is going to be. That is terrible sales technique. I am supposed to lure you in with a tantalizing glimpse at the wonderful prose that lies within. Yeah, that ain’t happening today. Today is a chat in the moment with a friend who is sleepy.

I have been writing quite a bit. I have the first draft of a piece I am excited for people to read. Unfortunately, it will be submitted to an anthology and I honestly don’t know when it will be published, or even if it will. If it doesn’t get accepted, then I will probably post it here on my blog, or submit it elsewhere. Either way, once it is available to be read, I will let you know.

And who are you? Well, in my mind I am talking to an audience. The best tools I have tell me there are roughly seven of you who regularly read, my Magnificent Seven. Sometimes it says there are a Dirty Dozen, I can’t seem to make heads or tales of these tools. Either way, when you subtract my family and my own computers hitting the site, it doesn't leave a lot of you. Sometimes I come across a blog of someone I enjoy reading, and I will dig down and read their old blog posts. I hope you are here doing that. Digging through the post of an author you enjoy, learning about what he was like in the early days.

Of course, I am not sure how early these days are. We never know how much time we have; we all have a clock ticking. Not being morbid, but from time to time I am reminded. It is what helps me write when I don’t feel like it. I am reminded of the lyric, “write like he’s running out of time.” I try to write that way because I am. We all are. It is important that I write, because one day I believe I will write the important story that I am meant to write. It might be a different one for different people, but I intend to write it. I have spent a lifetime learning the art of writing at the feet of masters. I have been moved numerous times and my life has changed course steered by the wind blowing off the ink of some wise one’s words. I want nothing more that to write the thing that steers some reader away from the shoals and onward, coursing away on their journey, fresh wind in their sails.

That is the hardest part of being a writer. I am a performer at heart and writing is a solitary pursuit. It is what I am best at, but I can’t hear the reaction of the crowd, the gasp, the laugh the cry. I must imagine it, and rather than surfing the waves of emotion, I must coast on the tide of my dreams. It is something I am getting better at every day. I miss the stage, but my place is here treading the keyboards, lighting up this page.

This blog was to be about my views, but more and more it is about my journey of writing. That is an ok thing. I hope you are coming along with me. I am learning to fit my form into restrictive function. This weekend I wrote a piece that had to be read within 3 minutes. The story I just finished had to be less than 3000 words. Each of those was a challenge for me to accomplish. As I exercise and stretch those muscles, hopefully I am developing into a better writer. Hopefully I am becoming someone that you look forward to reading.

I had one thought today, says the man with the meandering mind. I was up early, because today was the day in my country when we gather together and choose the people that will lead us for the next little while. This is both an honor and a challenge, but something I have done for several years now. I believe that even though I can’t see it, my vote influences things in the way a butterfly’s wings on the other side of the world influences my weather here today. It may not be noticeable, but under the right circumstances, it might. As I stood in line to cast my vote, I felt apprehension. I had worn a t-shirt specifically to help me keep in mind what I was voting about. It isn’t legal to wear clothing with political slogans into a polling place, so I was afraid I might get in trouble. The thing is, I didn’t believe that technically my t-shirt was breaking the rules. I was just afraid someone might interpret it that way. As I thought about it though, it brought up an interesting question. You see, my shirt simply said, in several different languages, one of the principles I life my life by. It said, “Love Your Neighbor”. The question that struck me, if I was asked to leave, would be, what political party was I representing with that message? The message in and of itself is apolitical. It is somewhat religious and definitely moral. Most known religions teach some variation of that thought. So I wondered, if someone angrily pulled me aside and scolded me for proclaiming by preferred political party, just what party would they assume I was hyping up? What candidate was receiving my endorsement? The most important question then became, was the vote I about to cast consistent with the shirt I was wearing? Do my political choices match my moral proclamations? Of course, the other half of that question is, does yours?

I hope you all are having the life you seek. May you find the happiness you need and the peace you deserve.