This week: What's so great about WDC? Edited by: Fyn  
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5. A Word from Writing.Com
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And the idea of just wandering off to a cafe with a notebook and writing and seeing where that takes me for awhile is just bliss. ~~J. K. Rowling
Good writing is supposed to evoke sensation in the reader - not the fact that it is raining, but the feeling of being rained upon. ~~E. L. Doctorow
Revision is one of the exquisite pleasures of writing. ~~Bernard Malamud
When everything does seem out of control, writing fiction is a way I can order that chaos and restore some sort of meaning. I like the playful aspect of writing fiction. You know how it is when we are kids and we make up our worlds: You be this guy, and I am going to be this guy, and we are going to go slay dragons. ~~Miriam Toews
Substitute 'damn' every time you're inclined to write 'very'; your editor will delete it and the writing will be just as it should be. ~~Mark Twain
Van Gogh never made a penny in his entire lifetime. He painted because it was his soul, his excitement. It was what aligned him with his Source of being. It's the same with me and writing. ~~Wayne Dyer
As human beings, we are the only organisms that create for the sheer stupid pleasure of doing so. Whether it's laying out a garden, composing a new tune on the piano, writing a bit of poetry, manipulating a digital photo, redecorating a room, or inventing a new chili recipe - we are happiest when we are creating. ~~Gary Hamel
I love the writing. I love the idea of typing and seeing it on the computer and printing it out myself and, you know, moving sentences around. I like that. ~~Carol Burnett
Easy reading is damn hard writing. ~~Nathaniel Hawthorne
There is creative reading as well as creative writing. ~~Ralph Waldo Emerson
It usually helps me write by reading - somehow the reading gear in your head turns the writing gear. ~~Steven Wright
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I joined WDC 1 March 2005. I had recently transplanted myself back to Michigan. I'd left an abusive relationship behind me in Maine and was basically running for my life with whatever I'd been able to grab and my dog. I drove west constantly looking in the rearview mirror terrified that I'd see his vehicle there. Any time I applied the brakes, I was scared they would fail. For years I'd been told that if I left, he would find me, catch me and make me sorry. I believed him, but finally, with broken bones, I left. At one point, I remember thinking that dying couldn't possibly hurt as badly as I was hurting.
Somewhere in Pennsylvania I stopped at a roadside park to let my pooch stretch her legs. We shared an ice cream cone. A stranger, an older lady, sat down next to me licking her vanilla cone. She smiled. I smiled. She asked if I was okay. I nodded. We talked that afternoon while my dog stretched out in the sun. When I got back on the road, I took with me her words of advice: find something new to focus on and give it as much of my attention as I could and to learn to look forward: I could not spend the rest of my life looking backwards.
A month later, I was living in a trailer park. I was on the rough side of town in a stereotypical dirt-poor park. Thin walls allowed the sounds of neighbors to punctuated my nights with sounds of slaps, cries, love-making and endless reruns of 'Golden Girls.' I felt like all the trailers there had Xs painted on their roofs and tornado season was coming. I was alone and beyond lonely. I'd lost the job I'd found and I hadn't done anything wrong. Again, I was buried in the feelings of not being able to do anything right.
On the first night of Mach, with the wind whistling through the trailer's windows, I wondered what might happen to my dog if I wasn't here, if I wasn't around. I couldn't sleep as my mind was spazzing, jumping from one unfinished thought to another, from one scenario to another. I was lost and hurting. Desperately trying to find something to side-track me, I was puttering about online. I stumbled across Writing.Com. I read a poem about focus. Essentially it said that if the big picture is too much to handle, focus on one tiny piece at a time. I remembered that lady's smile. Find something new to focus on.
I joined that night. Figured out which five poems to put in my port. All older stuff, nothing new. Didn't have a clue if I even could write anymore. Been told for too many years that my writing was garbage. But a spark was lit and I decided to focus on my passion which quickly reignited. I remember being almost afraid to sign in the next day. Would anyone have read anything? Might they have liked it? Long before dawn, I logged in. I had a thoughtful review from someone who gave a good critique, 4 stars and said they really enjoyed my work. No lights were needed in that tiny room. I was beaming. I think I wrote the entire day. Decided an upgrade was more important than food. I needed more room in my port!
Jumping in, head first, I read, wrote and reviewed. I entered contests. I lived on lettuce, chicken noodle soup and reviews for three weeks. Somewhere along the way, I started to feel like I had worth. Someone wrote that I was 'a valuable addition to WDC.' That statement re-enforced what I'd gotten back from this site. Writing.com saved my life that night. Been saving it ever since.
Time went by. I turned yellow and, eventually, blue. Anniversaries were truly like birthdays to me. Because I was reborn that night. Every year I looked forward to March 1st. One year, then five, then ten. Life moved on, forward. All sorts of good things happened in my new life. I found love and healing. Started my own company. Found ways to give back to WDC.
Then, right after Christmas this year, I got really sick. Usually, I power on through bouts of the flue -- not this time. It took well over eight weeks to kick that bug out of my system. My energy level was nonexistent. When I came up for air, I was buried in work that all needed getting done now! Hubby said (brilliant man!) to focus on one thing at a time. And I have and the pile is slowly shrinking and no longer at avalanche levels!
So this year, March 1st came. And went. I forgot! Can't believe it. I wasn't on WDC for a couple of days and then BAM! My inbox is filled with c-notes, surprises, gps, reviews. (Thanking all those very cool people for their thoughts and wishes!!!) I'd missed it! My own extremely special day and it snuck by me. No mental parades, no fireworks. Just days busily digging myself out. It dawned on me this morning, that this wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Just different. Different focus level perhaps.
Yet it has made me look back over fourteen years here! That's a long time! Come so far! Thanks to this wonderful place! Thanks to readers and reviewers. If you ever have any doubts about reading and reviewing, please KNOW that your review may, nay, WILL brighten a day, spark a smile and give someone a needed pat on the back or, possibly, kick in the backside!!! When I go back a read earlier pieces of mine, I am constantly reminded how much my writing has grown. Part of me wants to overhaul those earlier writings, another part wants to keep the reminder of how much I've improved. And we do! With time, learning from reading others' work, reviewing and always writing, we all just get better and better!
The years have also fostered some incredibly close and deep friendships! People in far flung places that I never would have had the opportunity to interact with; let alone become good friends with! People I consider every bit as much family as my sibling and children! (Those of you to whom I refer KNOW who you are! But, I thank you because you make every single day brighter and I love you for it!)
Writing.com is amazing, magical and a wondrous place. It teaches, listens, responds and we all are the better for it! There are some of you reading this who will think that -- oops, I missed hers too - or perhaps someone else's and be tempted to send a review or some such. Instead, please find a few newbies and send them a review instead. Surprise someone with some gps! Send a newbie a 'welcome' merit badge. That first review I received made all the difference in the world to me. It closed an ugly door and opened a slew of windows. Go be a burst of fresh air for someone new!!!
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Quick-Quill  opines: It is fun to write nostalgia, but the majority of the readers today have been trained to be satisfied with a solution-in-an-hour or a book translated to screen in 2 hours. The demand to be instantly immersed into a story and either made to cry or laugh within its pages puts the writer to work. Expectations are high. Your book can be thrown away if it doesn't meet a certain standard. There is a book on the market that has many reviews and lots of 5 stars. I thought the synopsis sounded good so I read the reviews. I read the negatives first. I want to know why people didn't give it 4/5 stars. What I read was consistent though out. The book didn't perform like the synopsis promised. I didn't buy the book.
Interesting point. Younger readers may well have been 'trained,' as you explain it. Everything is quick, fast, in a hurry. They'd rather 'watch' rather than read which is why so much of our 'news' is reduced to videos. Personally, I can read an entire article while waiting for the 'commercial' to finish!
hbk16 writes: This is a great story which reveals your previous life when your children were growing day by day.These are memories carved in the time by your writing .
Which is precisely why our memories need to be written!
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For Authors: March 06, 2019 Issue [#9421]
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