Bloggin' Umholtz

Waxing Poetic

Last night, between the hours of 11:00 PM and 3:00 AM, while suffering through the after affects of a vertigo attack, I wrote two wonderful blogs…in my head. This morning after three unrestful hours of rest I forgot them both. Not to worry, while getting ready for work I thought of another surefire winner, and just prior to committing it to microchip, or whatever it is ultimately committed to on these contraptions, I decided to check my Writingdotcom email.

This was a mistake, for besides my usual Thursday morning newsletters, I found several congratulatory emails telling me I won first place in the "Invalid Item"  contest. I was truly dumbfounded for I had read a number of the journals that were entered and felt I didn’t stand much of a chance. The upshot of this was, in my amazement, I forgot the third blog idea I’ve had in twenty-four hours.

So, I will wax poetic. Which I would imagine is much better than waxing the car or the kitchen floor. (I’ll spare you the Karate Kid line)

Along with the congratulatory emails from the judges, I received a number from my fellow writers here at WDC. Each pointed out to me how great my writing is and how much they enjoy reading my blog. Another referred to me as a “talented writer that richly deserved to win first place". One referred to my writing as “warm and inviting”. Hmmmm. Oh, the pressure.

And therein lies the paradox. I am in my third year here at WDC and have written a fair number of things during that time. I’ve won and lost my share of contests. And how I react is still the same. There is a part of me that craves the attention. And another, equally large part, that is, for lack of a better word, embarrassed by it. I oscillate back and forth between thinking I am a talented writer and that what I write and how I write is really nothing special…except to me.

For when it comes right down to it, adulation and praise aside, I really, truly, only write for me. Yes, I agree that that is selfish, but it is true. Often, when I sit at the keyboard, I have no idea what the words are that will show up on the screen. This piece is a case in point. When I am done, I shall read what I have written, and if I am pleased with it I will post it to my blog. If not? Well, that’s what the delete key is for.

I would imagine a great number of us feel like I do about what we write and about the attention we receive. I think this is a good thing. It keeps us from getting too big a head about ourselves (as does the occasional critical review).

A writer sits at the keyboard and with every push of a key, bleeds a little of his or her lifeblood into what they are writing. For that, all writers, commercially successful or not, are to be commended.

If we measure the success of writers on the commercial scale, I would imagine most of us have a very long way to go. But if we measure the success of writers by the writing that is put down from the soul, from the heart, as well we should, then there are many here who rate a first place and adulation long before me.

Nonetheless, I am pleased I won the contest. I am pleased so many of you look forward to reading what I write. But most of all I am pleased to be in the company of all the fine writers here at WDC. And I thank all of you for your encouragement and comments (including the negative ones). I only hope I can continue to live up to your expectations.

Enough of waxing poetic. So what is that anyway?

Did somebody put a fine sheen to one of Robert Frost’s poems? Naw, couldn’t be, They have a luster all their own.

Wax on…Wax off (Sorry, couldn’t resist.)