Yes, I know, the word is ‘praiseworthy’, but hey…words are what I do. One perk of writing is being able to make up words and languages. Ask J.R.R Tolkien*.
*Looking at the massively famous/popular/prolific JRRTolkien and GRRMartin, I am considering changing my name to DRRSevier-Fries. The RR has got to be some sort of demonic, sell-your-soul-to-the-devil symbol, which, by the way, I am totally open to…
To receive fame and fortune was never a goal of my wanting to be a writer. Fame would be cool for a while but from what I can see of celebrity, well, I think I’ll pass. As far as fortune goes, the truth is, I was married to a wealthy man and had more security and cash than one should hope for in a lifetime, and I was miserable. I had a stalemate, not a soulmate.
At present, I am a busy quill pusher who supplements my writing career by running (with my fine, imported soulmate) a wee family oriented motel in the bowl of a rim of mountains called Hope, BC Canada and although we live simply and have a steady but decidedly average income, I could not be happier. (*well, not unless Sean Bean came to town dressed as Boromir and wanted me to test every mattress in the place with him…but that might not happen.)
But as happy as I am, I am over-the-moon happier today because of one incident. It reinforced the one thing I have discovered that I DO want to get out of my writing: Praise. I received a smidgeon of unexpected praise today and it blew me away. Far too much, obviously, but it was a rush nonetheless:
An innocuous little blurb from a stranger on a Face Book group made my day. My week. My month.
I got a 5 star rating for my book once that sent me reeling too, but somehow, this praise was even more validating. Go figure. Maybe I am just an insecure storyteller who appeals to 2 or 3 people.
Well then…so be it. But those 2 or 3 people are now in my Will.