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May 12, 2004 The hardest part of writing an article that’s both new and interesting is the first ten words. Now that those ten are out of the way I can concentrate on what it is I want to say; what is it I want to say? I could write on anyone of a number of subjects ranging from my own peculiar faith to the latest thing causing me consternation; which is the motor home my wife and I purchased. We, like most people, did not move through a series of tents, trailers and small units. No that’s not my way; we moved right into a class “A” rig. A bus sized affair with ice box (malfunctioning at the moment), a toilet (needs to be emptied every seven days) and three beds (two of which we have to use to store all of the stuff that won’t fit in the other storage compartments). I could write about what it is that drove me to buy the thing, and then make arrangements to live in it for five months on her maiden cruise. But I won’t because that isn’t how I’d like to introduce myself. It would give the impression that I leap before I look and I don’t do that either. I look and even if the water is murky and I can’t see the bottom I leap if that is where I want to be. It makes my wife crazy, that I do this. She is the organization in my life. She is the one that attends to the details while I get to attend to the fun of causing the situation. Thus it is, thus it will ever be. I am allowed; I am turning fifty this year and anything I do I can attribute to a mid-life crisis. It is a good thing my wife is three years younger so she can steer the ship of state through the realms of my insanity. It would not be good to go it alone because I would get stuck on a detail that would impede my progress towards old age. Yet with her here she can take care of the detail and I can just flit on to the next rest area in the road. So here I am, 49 years old, retired due to an interesting series of events looking at the big five O and wondering what am I going to do today to pass the time. Then I opened my e-mail and here was a note from some guy named Matt saying he wanted writers of new, exclusive articles, 600- 1500 words for this magazine called “Useless Knowledge.” “Ok” I say to myself; “A gauntlet has been thrown before me, a challenge to my skill as one who writes verbiage.” The word count is not intimidating at all, I can pop out that many words just by thinking about what it is I want to write about. A subject will soon appear now that the first ten words are out and I am on my way. It is that looking and jumping thing that I have such great fondness of. Once I was retired I had nothing better to do so I wrote a book. My friends all said it was good so I set it aside and wrote another and then another and even still another and much to my amazement have a fifth one in the works. I love words and, I like to write and, have investigated the possibility of publishing. It is a tedious time consuming task consisting of many letters, stamps, envelopes and reams of paper only to receive back a “no thanks not for us, try someone else” reply. I think it isn’t so much the rejection that puts me off working on writing the letters, because I think I write a good personal letter. I believe that it’s the fear of success. Why would one fear being accepted? I don’t know ask a psychologist or a psychiatrist or maybe even a psychic but I know that if I were to be the one in a thousand that actually writes a breakout best seller then my life would change and I would have to hire an assistant for my wife which would then make me an employer, a boss, a manager. Before I was an unemployed writer I was a blue collar worker. Once even I was a union steward. I personally enjoyed the many meetings that the managers called to discuss the egregious actions of a fellow employee and defending them. What my mind sees with success is me sitting on the other side of the table having to defend some business decision I made to an employee. When I dream I dream huge. No little mom and pop writer enterprise for me, I see it in all its ugly glory. A Stephen King type empire where when I call the agent, they drop what ever they happen to be attending to at the moment and take my call; the same with publishers and editors. The problem though is that I hate the telephone and never use it longer than I have to. A five minute call is long for me, so there would be very little thrill of being the head of an empire and having minions to do my bidding. I have all that I want now. A good wife of twenty years, an early retirement that allows me to ponder and think, a good set of legs for jumping and, a letter from a guy named Matt challenging me to write a new article with a short word count. And it isn’t even seven in the morning yet. A good day has begun, and a challenge has been well met. ------------ About the author Mark C. Durfee: 49...stopped doing what I was doing before to become an unpublished, unemployed writer. Looking for an agent or a publisher(AAR). I have written four full length novels with a variety of themes. Email: mcd5255@hotmail.com Tell a friend about this site! ------------ |
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