Get a Grip

I hate coming to grips with reality. It's never fun for me. I like to make up fantastic stories. They, I find, are more fun. The truth is I'm not a good fiction writer...at least not yet, but in one of those stories I'm a famous writer. Widely published, well known, sought-after...And then there's reality.

And in reality I had to give up my writing gig; I wasn't cut out for it. At least not now. Probably not ever. Not that one anyway. I am not a journalist. I gave that idea up eight years ago when I went to college to pursue a degree in journalism but learned that wasn't me. I took it up thinking I could do a little reporting - but no. Not even close. It was a nightmare.

Reality is that I think like a poet. Embracing that is learning to call myself one. Because I am. Look on my hard drive and you will see that a majority of my writing - and a lot of it - is poems. Are they published? No. But that's because I'm scared to try. But tonight I faced reality. Scared poets are still poets. They are just poets who nobody knows about.

And maybe that's what I've wanted all along. Emily Dickinson has always been one of my greatest influences. And her work, though somewhat known, did gain most of its merit posthumously. A friend of mine actually told me once that, "...who knows, you could be like C.S. Lewis.” His writing also increased in popularity after his death. Things like this could have contributed to the unpublished stated of this poet.

Don't freak out on me and think I'm planning on dying to get famous (although that would make a great story, I'm not prepared enough for that...I've recently realized that if I ever want anything in print I've got a lot of work to do with what I've got...and I don't write fiction yet but I'd like to someday so I'll save that for a book). But I have finally recognized what - or more accurately who - I am. A poet who has woken to reality. Who sees it differently than most and writes it all down. Someday soon maybe I'll learn how to be a poet who shares my reality.