EXPOSURE

"Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure." (Helen Keller)

Maybe I'm a bit old to think of being brave and bold. But as far as my writing is concerned, there are no limits--or there shouldn't be.I want the exposure it takes to grab the attention of an agent. I need the exposure of book faires to get my writing into the hands of readers. But those opportunities are not as forth coming as I suppose they should be.

Is it because I'm fooling myself with the thought that I am truly a writer? Are my expectations pie in the sky? Am I worthy of having a name readers will remember?

I need to trust myself. I should remember how successful I have been with this craft I love. I lost count at the 300 mark of short stories, personal essays, articles and poetry published. I know some people are well-known, are making a lot of money, and spend their every hour writing on a computer or in their head. I haven't done that as I have a personal life that is as important to me as my writing. I love words and making them sparkle and reach out to grab readers. But I love my hubby, too, and there is so much more I enjoy in life.

What I do, whom I love, and where I live is part of the development of my whole life. I have always had highs and lows--great moments of discovery, wonderful spells of happiness, or others of depression, and long spells of contentment--and now realize how happy I am with my life in general as it is today. I am attempting to have this same contentment out weigh the down times in my writing.

No matter how old I am, I want a well-rounded life as long as we are able to sustain it. I have new concerns about my husband who is fifteen years older than I; his age is working against him in a few areas. But he is so "up", ready to travel, willing to tag along with me to my writing functions (or go play pool while I mix with other writers and readers), and maintains his same teasing, funny self. I want us both to continue to pack "life" into our remaining years together.

I hope to pack this same life into the writing I yearn to do. Even though the economy has tanked, all but six big name publishers have drown in red ink and closed shop, and few agents want to represent anyone that doesn't have a famous name and a bizillion books sold under their belt, I am still working on a manuscript, a chapbook of poetry, several articles, and dreaming of discovering the next great idea.

Under the circumstances, does this make me brave and bold?

DRAGONFLIES

While in Florida, I sat on the screened-in patio (the mosquitos in Florida are large enough to carry you off) and watched not one but three dragonflies run up the screen to escape the rain. My son-in-law thinks they are grosteque looking bugs and I have always been fascinatd by them. That interest caused my husband to purchase a lovely dragonfly broach for me one Christmas; it is still on my favorite coat.

Webster describes the dragonfly as "a long thin flying insect with transparent wings and a shimmering body." Those wings seem iridescent and I find them beautiful. I've never written about them, or this fascination I have with them. I suppose once I thuoght about doing so because recently while going through one of my journals I found information I had collected on my fairy-like winged beauties.

There was the description, a picture of one snipped from a Zoo News Magazine and a snippet of background. It seems that in Japan the dragonfly was once revered to the point that soldiers of old wore them on their helmets or headgear as a symbol of strength. Can you imagine such tiny creatures being entwined with the belief of strength?

I like the other information I made a note of best: Dragonflies encourage us to let go of the past and welcome the winds of change.

I am open for the dragonfly to bless me with such encouragement as I need a change in my writing life--if I make it through next weeks book submission.