Saying the Wrong Thing
Have you ever blurted out something and then wished you could take the words back? I suspect all of us have, at one time or another. For me, it's a bad habit. When I'm inspired to write, the words flow out from my brain in a gusher and I struggle to get them written down as fast as I can, before I lose any. I have lost some really good stuff a number of times because I didn't take the time to get them down just then, or couldn't because of circumstances. Unfortunately, when one carries over this trait to the outflow from the mouth, it's out there for everyone to hear, along with all the bloopers, blunders, and spoiled fish the spoken words create. I think when I get to heaven, the first thing St. Peter is going to say (he runs the gate, you see) is, "Okay, what bad thing did you spit out this week? Did you do penance for it? Have you apologized yet? Did you make amends?" One can't get in until all the repentance stuff is taken care of, you know. By this time, my face will have drooped to about the level of my knees.
My last bad blooper happened the weekend of our family funeral. One of Rhea's granddaughters, a highly talented seventeen-year-old, had written five years earlier a poem about her grandmother that was read during the service. We were remarking afterwards about how well and lovingly it captured the traits and characteristics of her grandma--her practical shoes, her love of the color blue, etc.-- and what a great future lay ahead for this budding literal artist. Then I blurted out to Lauren with all my knowledgeable expertise, "But of course you won't be able to make a living at it." Just what she needed to hear; right? Wrong! It does take years for the vast majority of artists to make a living at their crafts and very few do, but occasionally a bright star breaks through early. So why discourage her? Because the mouth always runs ahead of the brain, at least here. Very rarely will you see a first draft appear here in print.
There's one other time the mouth is sure to outsmart the upper story. That is when someone questions my credentials as a writer. I haven't spent forty years and one month sitting in creative writing classes annually, wearing down dozens of pencils to stubs, and later putting callouses on my typing fingers without learning something. Who cares that my first book came out too late to put my eldest daughter through college, as I'd hoped. Make that much too late. And that, even if I had, its total proceeds might have paid her first semester's expenses--at a state college. Don't miss that "might." Well, you get the idea. Ever heard of starving artists? That's not a fairy tale.
Writers write because they have a message to share with the world. Lauren's poem depicted the very essence of the grandmother she loved, and she saw this at the very young age of twelve. That's her genius. She'll do well. I hope I didn't discourage her. But then, being the gifted writer she already is, it won't matter. She writes because she loves to write. Her mother says the words just flow right out of her suddenly in a stream. Yes, she's got it! Nothing will stop her, because that the way it is with gifted writers. Not even her loud-mouthed bumbling great aunt's blooper will be able to stop her.
Spouting out my best to you, my treasured readers,
Margaret
My last bad blooper happened the weekend of our family funeral. One of Rhea's granddaughters, a highly talented seventeen-year-old, had written five years earlier a poem about her grandmother that was read during the service. We were remarking afterwards about how well and lovingly it captured the traits and characteristics of her grandma--her practical shoes, her love of the color blue, etc.-- and what a great future lay ahead for this budding literal artist. Then I blurted out to Lauren with all my knowledgeable expertise, "But of course you won't be able to make a living at it." Just what she needed to hear; right? Wrong! It does take years for the vast majority of artists to make a living at their crafts and very few do, but occasionally a bright star breaks through early. So why discourage her? Because the mouth always runs ahead of the brain, at least here. Very rarely will you see a first draft appear here in print.
There's one other time the mouth is sure to outsmart the upper story. That is when someone questions my credentials as a writer. I haven't spent forty years and one month sitting in creative writing classes annually, wearing down dozens of pencils to stubs, and later putting callouses on my typing fingers without learning something. Who cares that my first book came out too late to put my eldest daughter through college, as I'd hoped. Make that much too late. And that, even if I had, its total proceeds might have paid her first semester's expenses--at a state college. Don't miss that "might." Well, you get the idea. Ever heard of starving artists? That's not a fairy tale.
Writers write because they have a message to share with the world. Lauren's poem depicted the very essence of the grandmother she loved, and she saw this at the very young age of twelve. That's her genius. She'll do well. I hope I didn't discourage her. But then, being the gifted writer she already is, it won't matter. She writes because she loves to write. Her mother says the words just flow right out of her suddenly in a stream. Yes, she's got it! Nothing will stop her, because that the way it is with gifted writers. Not even her loud-mouthed bumbling great aunt's blooper will be able to stop her.
Spouting out my best to you, my treasured readers,
Margaret
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