Determination in the Face of No No No

The muse cannot resist a working writer, said science fiction author Ray Bradbury.

"OK. OK. But when will everyone else out there be smitten by my, surely, undeniable charms?" you may ask.

Part of the difficulty, of course, is that it is easy to confuse the muse with the marketplace. When a hard-working writer, such as yourself no doubt, hears mostly No No No from the marketplace, discouragement is easy and, to a great extent at least, thoroughly sane.

Who was the better singer? Frank Sinatra or Loretta Lynn? Pavarotti or Judy Garland? Or your Uncle Jim? The answer, of course, is that there is no answer. It could be argued that each was outstanding in his or her own sphere. Perhaps even your Uncle Jim in the sphere of his own bathtub.

It is difficult to be a poor writer in any genre and have sustained marketplace success. One-hit wonders are featured on talk shows and then they disappear.

But it is easy indeed to be a very good writer and not be much published. Emily Dickinson is the patron saint of this. There are others.  For instance, Stephen Leacock's first book, now forgotten, Elements of Political Science, was a standard university textbook for 20 years and made him more money than anything else he wrote.

In line with most of the rest of our lives as we live them, life is unfair. And, so, there is no necessary relationship, either lofty or earthbound, between art and sales.

When we look at success as a writer, we need to focus on the writing, not on the marketplace acceptance. Say that three times every day. And then three times more.

I am at a point myself where I can write a piece of flash fiction, a 450-word newspaper column or, saints preserve us, even a piece of light verse that rhymes and bumps along nicely, thank you very much. Not easily, mind you. And not Mark Twain or Stephen Leacock. But generally serviceable.

"So, do that," I say to myself. "People tell me they enjoyed reading this or that and they even, from time to time, ask me for advice.

At the same time, I am struggling with putting together a short story of a couple of thousand words. So far, I haven't been able to structure it properly even though, if I do say so myself, there are spots and segments that are pretty darn good.

I started the story "Bugs in the Grass" (position on best seller list pending actual publication) in 2017. I have had feedback, most of it wise and helpful and all of it thoughtful and appreciated.  from some of you and from some others. But I alternate between being worried and being convinced that my editing has sucked the life out of my latest version.

I believe, though, I have discovered a couple of things:

1. I haven't known who the protagonist of my story is. I know, I know, you'd think I would. It's embarrassing. But some of the supporting roles and character actors are just so fascinating. 
2. I didn't know if my story's objective is to let the light of wisdom shine through the narrative's humour. Or, whether my stubbornness about getting some of the concrete details both photographically and tonally right has been misplaced. I don't know - maybe I can, or should, do both. But I do know that I need to know what my target is.

So, I'm going at it again over the next few weeks. I'll get it yet.

And I will try my best to remember that one of his contemporaries said Leacock's humour was "destined not to endure" for "it is written in water."

Water indeed. 

The best I can say is that if you, like me, are wrestling with a piece that you believe has value, or soul, or heart, or truth - keep working.

I mean, Ray Bradbury, The Martian Chronicles and Fahrenheit 451. C'mon.