Resolve Face

It's all set. I am being serious. Somehow I keep flashing on Alyson Hannigan as Willow of Buffy the Vampire Slayer with her "Resolve Face." Possibly because she is battered by life, but still soldiering on.

I did send in a piece to a literay magazine, and the next step, all the professional advice givers on the internet tell me, is to attend a writing conference. I'd rather just keep flailing blindly by myself, as many strangers in one room, with its forced intimacy, requires an effort of will. I can fit in, and even enjoy it, but it is always information overload.

A conference also has the feel of a prescribed initiation credential. In this age of e-publishing, social media, and networking, credentials are becoming more important. I came; I spent money; I mingled. Not quite the impact of Veni, vidi, vinci, but it will do. Besides, if Willow could join a coven, I surely can survive a cluster of authors.

Writing

Writing is a dirty little secret. Just like wearing a spandex shaper (once called a girdle), or drinking alone. Actually, I've never worn a girdle, but if I did, I imagine I wouldn't admit it easily. I've written many things through my life: letters, papers for school, diatribes to politicians. Oh, yes, and the occasional other.

After years of writing in the closet, I am actually taking the plunge and sending off a piece to a literary magazine. Taking action is not comfortable. You can fool yourself by pretending you are merely keeping your light under a bushel rather than admit the fear of exposing yourself to the light of day. In the end, that's rather sterile. So it's time to open the shutters, come out of the closet, step forward and expose my light to the world.

I'm sending a missive out into the world: I'm here, I write, and I'm okay with that.