Alter Ego

From that simple white folder with the typed words of her name and anthology, to the one rejection letter in her thirties to the first Book Festival after publishing, Miss knew this is what she wanted. She dreamed of interviews on the morning talk shows, with Matt Lauer before we knew he was creepy. Before we knew so much of the world was creepy.

How many mornings, up early and writing, but have to stop because Miss had to get ready for work? Oh, to be like Harper Lee and get her salary for a year to write. Oh, to be so brilliant, an advance would keep her writing. This is before she felt self publishing was her path. She groaned and posted her longings on Facebook, because someone might feel like she does and feel validated. Was that the excuse?

Miss always looked on this as a journey. She loved to travel, yet, hated to pack. In the back of her mind, she wondered, "Is that what my writing is? I want to have written." She read some famous author wrote that. Do I not want to do the leg work for a novel? Or do I do too much planning? And not enough driving? Keeping seat on the chair?

She thought back when her oldest daughter, who in her opinion is a writer- always a writer- had to decide what career she saw herself in. They were given a frog, was it in eighth grade? That is when the girl decided writing fulfilled her. Miss asked her at the time, "Can you go a day without writing?" The teen stared as if she didn't even understand the question. Like do you even think about breathing?

Miss knew she birthed writers. Could she encourage them to not give this gift away or cover it with reality? Would she flame the dream or would she be seen as delusional? When it seemed they weren't fueling the flame, Miss drove herself to fulfill her dream. She would wear the mantle.

Miss knew she needed to live a life early on. Too often stories fell at her feet and never rose. She was proud of her story that garnered the rejection letter. At least, she got a rejection letter that time. Some articles flew into the wind with no idea how they landed. She tried, but it didn't feel the time, yet.

As she reached fifty, she rose up again with the dream. She made it work this time. To her the best response came when her oldest daughter, confidentially told her, "I'm proud of you, Mom, for going after your dream. Working on it."

Fourteen years later and changing life, always trying to find a job that fit with her idea of writing life. She loved to call it writing life. She did laugh at herself as she longed for the writing space. It ends up being her couch that is buckling after the years. As if she would be famous like Mark Twain, Ernest Hemmingway or Robert Frost, showing their desks, chairs, rooms. As if, anyone would want to see her writing space in the future. At least, her room growing up had that romantic look. Her house then looked like a huge cottage.

I debated whether to write this in third person again. I have found it easier to speak of these ideas looking through Miss' eyes. Miss may be just a little more than I am. She came about when I first started being a nurse at the high school. The students called me Miss all the time, with no other name added. I became my alter ego. Disassociation?

I watched the latest Superman movie yesterday. I wanted to see the Cleveland background. I'm sure in Smallville, questions about Clark Kent were answered, but I didn't really watch that series. Was he a great journalist? Writer? And in this movie yesterday, why at the climatic ending is no one asking, "Where's Clark?"

Because the story started in Cleveland, I feel I should research it more. Last September at a book festival in the Metropolitan Library of Cleveland, they displayed the desk where they penned Superman. I stood by it, praying for super success.

A few days ago, I read about Ghost on Medium. I glanced it over and thought, "well, I'll try the free trial." The second day, I knew I had to write fresh content every day. (Sorry, if this doesn't sound fresh, as I feel I'm repeating myself.) Bear with me. This morning, I thought about what I was going to write. I think this free trial and the challenge I gave myself, is to crystalize my dream of being a published writer, again in me. I thought of the first paragraph, the folder as my first inkling I could be a professional. It didn't have to just be a hobby. And as I thought of the Book Festival, along with the many webinars and writing courses I aspired to conquer, my dream really is to put meaningful material out there. I didn't get interviewed on the Today Show, but I did two radio programs. Back in 2014, but I did them. I was totally unprepared. Last spring, invited with another writer to do a podcast. That did feel better. Ten years of a journey, I hope I matured. At least a little.