Back-up plan

Even a chipmunk knows that unless your name is Rowling or Grisham or King, writers don’t earn diddly-squat. I’m just being realistic here. Clearly it has nothing to do with talent; it’s simply a matter of supply-and-demand. There are more people out here calling themselves writers than there are people who actually read. It’s true.

So to my practical Taurus nature it makes sense to have a fall-back position if this writing thing tanks.

There’s an inexhaustible list of things for which I have no aptitude and even less interest. But what would I LIKE to do?

I’d love to be Rick Steves’ protégé and follow him around the world researching his travel guide books and videos. Singing back-up with James Taylor would be fabulous. The job of George Clooney’s mistress seems to be taken already.

That seemed to leave floral arranging.

I’ve always loved flowers. How pleasant, I thought, to work with flowers and maybe make a few bucks arranging bouquets and the like. Part-time, you know; maybe during the holidays or on Singles Awareness (a.k.a. Valentine’s) Day .

My community college course in the basics of floral design ends this week. I’ve loved every minute of it. The teacher has a unique approach: After we lay all our materials on the table he simply says, “OK, y’all, be creative!” I’ve discovered, happily, that I have a nugget of talent in this field. Or at least the teacher lets me thinks so.

I preened the first time he told me now beautiful my centerpiece was. Then I realized he was telling EVERYBODY the same thing. Apparently “beautiful” is his euphemism for “how nice that you showed up for class.”

But that’s OK. If my writing career doesn’t pan out, I can always make funeral wreaths.

Attitude Adjustment

I’m trying to find my voice. It’s harder than it sounds.

This little corner of words has been percolating in my head for some time now, and I’m not any closer to discovering the right tone than when I started.

That disturbs me because I used to be cool. But that was during the Nixon years. OK, maybe my hip-ness extended into the Carter era, but not much longer.

I don’t listen to Lady GaGa or the Black-Eyed Peas, and don’t even get me started on the crap they call rap. I don’t watch The CW or VH1. I don’t text or Twitter.

I know that successful blogs take more than nouns and verbs and the occasional adjective. They require Attitude.

Wonder how Shakespeare’s blog would’ve read? Or Mark Twain’s? Or Coco Chanel’s?

The best blogs seem breezy, conversational, smart, edgy. Can I get there?
Hipsters who keep up with the times claim that writers use blogs like sales reps use free samples. You gotta show your wares.

Never mind that I’ve been showing my writing wares for over half a century. My old friend Paula recently reminded me of the stupid little stories I penned in the sixth grade with our weekly spelling words, “The Adventures of Emiline the Elephant.” Everybody else in the class, dutifully following the assignment, wrote sentences using the week’s words.

Me, I found this boring, so I made up Emiline and wove those words into an ongoing series. Our teacher, Miz Goforth, encouraged this literary effort by making me stand up in front of the class every week to read my deathless prose.

I was hooked on the written word forevermore.

I’d like to believe my style has matured since those heady days of 1959-60, but I still have the passion for writing that had its roots in the adventurous Emiline.

Right now I’m relearning “hip” and trying to find my new blogger-worthy Attitude. With any luck, you’ll stick around for the conversation.

The journey begins...

Welcome to my new blog! I'm a latecomer to this particular form of literary prostitution, but I figure if I'm really serious about establishing myself as a writer -- and I am -- then I need a presence on the 'net. Who says an old Boomer can't learn a new trick or two?

If you already know me, you know that I'm "repotting" myself -- transitioning from a conventional, full-time job to the wonderful state of being joyfully jobless. I just love that phrase! It's not original, so I can't take credit for it. But it describes how I'm approaching Life After Employment.

Notice I didn't say I'm retired. I'm still actively looking for work; it's just not the kind of work I've been doing for the last 40 years. Let's just say I'm going back to my roots -- writing. After all, my first job was writing (for my hometown newspaper). I put myself through college the same way -- writing. My first job after college was writing for another newspaper. I continued to rely on my writing skills in my PR and fundraising jobs, even though I produced grant applications and annual reports rather than news and feature stories.

And then I was laid off in December 2008. Over the next 18 months I applied for 180 fundraising jobs and came up with nuthin'. Zero. Nada. Ok, you say, cry me a river. Old news. Millions of people in same boat, blah blah. What's so special about me?

First, let me say that I believe in divine guidance. There are no accidents; everything happens for our greatest and highest good. If we're willing to listen to the still, small voice within us -- the essence of what a lot of people might call God -- we can usually find the answers we're looking for. My own M.O. is to tune into what I describe as my guardian angels, or my personal cosmic committee, for help and inspiration.

My guardian angels are a sassy bunch. I know they've always had my best interests at heart, but for those 18 months they had been mute as mummies. I had been demanding that they find me a full-time job with health benefits, and demanding that they find it now! But my heavenly hosts remained strangely silent. I was pretty fed up with their performance (or lack thereof), I'll tell you.

Well, around my birthday this year (May 6, the day I turned 62) I finally woke up and purchased a clue. I had been making so much noise hammering that square peg into that round hole that I had missed what my angels had been shouting all along: Losing my job was a blessing! I now have the time and flexibility to write again! And, moreover and just as important, the opportunity to TRAVEL! And write about my travels.

Well, DUH. Had I actually gotten a "real" job, with its stupid two-weeks-off-a-year vacation schedule (when will Americans finally rebel against this Neanderthal policy? -- Sorry, I'll get on that tangent later!), would I have been able to travel as I want? Er, ah, not "no," but "hell, no!" At my age do I have the patience, stamina, ambition or drive to work again full-time? Er, ah, same answer.

So thank you, angels, once again for covering my back and keeping my dance card FREE so I can pursue what I really want to do at this point in my life! And if I use platforms like this blog successfully enough, I'll even get paid to do it! That's the goal, in fact. Money is a very good thing. Being paid to do what you love to do: Isn't that everybody's dream?

In the next few months I'm going to be living large as I begin what I hope will be a series of trips abroad -- and I'd love for you to join me, at least in cyberspace. My feisty angels will be along for the ride. Watch this blog for details of our flight...