Friday, February 3, 2012

Self Pity and Visual Inspiration (2)

Sorry for just disappearing again. I happen to do that a lot. Despite the silence on the blog, I haven't been getting much writing done. I'm writing slower than I can run a mile (which takes a pretty darn long time) and it's okay. *dusts away cobwebs on the blog and in my brain* While surfing the internet, I came upon a writing forum. Being the curious person I am, I clicked on it and read the comments, stalker style. Except, you know, without any intents on any actual stalking. Apparently, this thirteen-year-old girl was in the midst of publishing her book.


Yeah. I'd like to say that I looked at it and treated it as one of those random facts like "The sky is blue". But no, my face kind of looked like I just found out Texas is undergoing desertification in my World Geography class.

I was furious at myself. For years, I've been calling myself a writer and I haven't even finished a story yet. And lookie here, a thirteen-year-old's gonna have her book out, like, for sale and stuff. I couldn't concentrate on my schoolwork. I was just...wallowing in self pity. Of course, that's pretty normal for me, so maybe I should say that I was drowning in self pity.

One day, before the first bell rang, I told my friend. She, being wise and totally smart, basically told me I was an idiot for thinking that way. Except, you know, with nicer words. Actually, because she's a writer too and way better with words than I'll ever be, she compared it to climbing. She said something about how she climbed this hella high thing (Um...yeah. Sorry for not remembering the actual place. Half Point or something? Half Peak?) and said that eight-year-olds have climbed it before as well. But she was proud of herself for climbing it and having kids younger than her doing it didn't bug her. My friend did it and that's what mattered. Age isn't the most important thing. (Oh dear, that sounds a bit...weird. But we're all innocent people here, aren't we?)

So, the moral of her story is that age doesn't matter. Publishing isn't a race. It doesn't matter if you're published at thirteen or thirty or even seventy. Heck, maybe in twenty years or so, I won't even want to be published anymore. Maybe I'll have another dream. (Which would be really sad)

The following pictures were found on


  1. Yeah, I realized that after I wrote this. :P But I was too lazy to fix it.