May swept by like a hawk on a mission. I’d hoped to get all kinds of things done while I took off time from blogging, and I did, but not half of what I wanted. I need to be more realistic in setting my goals, but I’ve know that since, like, forever. I don’t think I know how to make a short list.
It was interesting not being at my computer, thinking of what to write or commenting on others’ blogs. It gave me time to stare off into space a bit and shake the kinks out of my brain.
|A pond staring moment.|
|That hawk that swept by on a mission.|
I did go to one very interesting meeting where four eighteen-year-old women were awarded scholarships for letters. They read from their work, and I was blown away by their talent and their self-assurance in front of an audience of published writers. As they talked about their work and career goals I thought, “They don’t need the Insecure Writer’s Support Group. How come I feel I do?”
Then I thought back to my eighteenth year and I understood why. At eighteen I knew just about everything, and what I didn’t know I was sure to pick up in college. It’s only after all these out of college years where failures walk arm in arm with successes, where set backs come just after major accomplishments, where life doesn’t always cooperate and lead me along a straight path to my goal that I’m wise enough to understand that nothing’s always firm, nothing’s always set, nothing’s always safe. That’s not what life is. It’s filled with tricky things like illness, unexpected arrivals and departures, joys one minute, woes the next, so much love, so much hate, bad timing and good. Feeling a bit insecure once in a while has come from experience and prepared me to find my footing quickly, so when I take a step just as the earth shifts and leaves me off balance, I can regain that balance. I’m ready to catch myself.
And that’s all the homespun philosophy I’m capable of today. Here’s to the Insecure Writers’ Support Group; glad you’re around.