The Undiscovered Country

I Don't Like to Brag, But . . .

Oh, who am I kidding? Of course I like to brag. Who doesn't?

Remember how I said we writers are a sensitive bunch? It's a door that swings two ways.

Sure we go all blubbery when our writing is criticized, but the door swings to the other direction and slams into the wall when we receive praise, too.

For instance, when I found out yours truly won this installment of "Invalid Item"  (perhaps you'll notice the new cyan AwardIcon shining brightly next to my title. If not, look!), my first reaction was total surprise (more on that in a second), but another part said something like this:

"I won! I won! Go me! I'm so awesome. I'm better than everyone else! In your face! Ha!

Okay, maybe that's a little over the top for me (not really).

Truth is, I didn't expect to make it past the second round. I read all the other competitors' entries, and they were truly outstanding (I didn't envy lazymarionette having to judge them all).

I've won a few contests, but winning this one means a bit more than others. Not much more, mind you, but enough for me to question as to why.

Two reasons.

1). The competition. Who I came up against are all outstanding writers. That's not a complaint, because they forced me to work harder on mine.

2) It was hard! Coming up with an entry for a specific prompt can be intimidating. All those questions kept parading through my mind about how I would answer the prompts in a timely manner, and if I could write entries simultaneously entertaining and informative. I know my writing can sometimes appear both pragmatic and preachy, and I have been accused more than once of trying to make people look stupid so I can appear smarter. It's not true (at least not on purpose), but I can see (usually after the fact) how my words can seem that way.

At least with this particular contest, I managed to avoid "nose-in-the-air-I'm-better-than-you" entries.

I watched a movie the other day about Mother Theresa called "The Letters." It was about her life, but it also focused on letters she wrote to Father Celeste van Exem (played by Max von Sydow). In the letters she expressed a deep loneliness because she believed God had abandoned her.

The movie also pointed out how she unwaveringly refused praise for her accomplishments. She told everyone who tried to compliment her that she was God's instrument, and only he deserved the credit. I don't remember the exact quote, but when a reporter tried to interview her, she grabbed his pencil and said, "I am like this pencil. Do you praise the pencil for writing?"

I couldn't help but wonder if that constant refusal played a part in her loneliness.

Regardless of how small our accomplishments might seem to ourselves and to others, we still need recognition for them. No one can work in a vacuum. If we never receive acknowledgement for a job well-done, what's the incentive to continue? Wouldn't we at one point think we're wasting our time and want to quit? I know I would.

So to be recognized for writing a few good entries, that's something that'll keep me writing in this blog for a long time to come. Lucky you (read that with a hefty dose of sarcasm).

Whether or not I'll continue to write "quality" entries -- well -- that's actually a guarantee. Notice how I didn't place "good" or "excellent" in front of "quality?" That's because I know I'll write a few bad quality entries, and no one can accuse me of lying.