Monday, November 14, 2011
Put on My Fancy Shoes by Linda S. Glaz
So, I put on my special shoes, fluffed the edge of my dress for the third time, took a deep breath, stared at the audience, and began to blog. The sound of all those feet clacking against the floor helped to still my rapid heartbeat. Then...what if they don’t like me? Sweat trickled down my neck and soaked the bodice of my dress, but I continued to blog. I thought I heard someone giving raspberries out there, but no, the man only sneezed—with gusto! So I re-connected with the music, and blogged some more.
Wait! Hold everything!
Umm, that’s not blogging, that’s clogging.
Or is that what the rooter man fixes?
Oh, I’m so confused. But the sweat, and the fear, and the rapid heartbeat are all the same whether I’m clogging or blogging. Dancing in front of an audience, or writing for one.
Oooh, it’s snaking up my back right now just at the thought that my last submission will be rejected. Or that you’ll leave a comment that makes me feel less than capable. But hold everything, I hear a tad of applause…is that an audience or an editor? He has only one space left for 2012? Oh, pick me, pick me!
The heart of a writer, like that of anyone in the arts, is always asking for someone to “pick me”, please. Validate my efforts. Let me know that even though I don’t make millions clacking away, not on a proscenium, but on a keyboard, what I do is worth it. If you’re in a season, like a lot of us, when no one is applauding your efforts, rise above and remember, it’s all a matter of timing. Not even yours or the editors’, but God’s…
Hey! Pick me! Pick me!