There Is Nothing Quite So Sure As Change
Wait for it…
Wait for it…
As I start to write this, I am thinking to myself, this is today's first instalment of “let's make a few enemies.”
I am already making contingency plans on what to do when my story is rejected by publications and how to make up hundreds of people who quit following me.
Some writers use rough language. Some writers talk about politics. I, personally, just like to be insensitive about things that cause me to scratch my head. That’s how I make enemies.
Seeking vulnerability?
I am seeing more articles advising writers of using topics that include their being vulnerable. These should be written in the first-person perspective. A couple of publications I have looked at have come right out and said that they want any new story to include the writer being vulnerable.
OK. Setting and achieving goals make good stories. Stories about overcoming odds are inspirational and are great to read. But being vulnerable?
News flash! We, humans, are all born vulnerable.
We cannot take care of ourselves. (But no film at eleven on this…)
Our mom or somebody has to take care of us. Hopefully, we learn to take care of ourselves eventually. We learn by making mistakes. We walk better after we fall a couple of times. But falling down is not a quality that is in demand.
There is a phrase, “fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me!” We need to learn from life, and to do so we must be a part of life.
I seriously do not mean to sound calloused about readers who enjoy reading about people on the struggle bus, but there you are. We all find ourselves on it sometimes, and we have to just figure out how to get off, not dwell on being there.
If we need to read about others’ problems, do we have too few of our own?
Here's a thought. Don’t be so sheltered. Get out in the world and fail some. Overcome. Read about successes all day long, but get away from vulnerabilities. Read about newfound strengths.
This was the end of my original story.
It worried me that I was not only making enemies but also that I was not really looking past my nose. How shallow of me!
In the beginning, I was naive enough to think I was just talking about a certain wimpiness that showed sensitivity. It seems to have become sought-after these days. The cowboy who cries. The soldier who whimpers.
Makes good TV. Feels all warm and fuzzy. Great commercials.
But in a larger and deeper sense, we are not talking about vulnerability as simple wimpiness, as in my boyfriend went out with my best friend while I was making him lasagna. The word vulnerable has gone through that metamorphosis that so many words have gone through today.
And it has happened under the radar, or at least under mine.
I have been played.
For me to use the word vulnerable in any story is for me to be played. It has become a highly charged gateway word to a black hole of political rhetoric and schemes. I have learned that it’s almost impossible to use it in a non-political way.
I am one who deliberately avoids political discussions, but my Pollyanna-like outlook has led me into a trap. Now, instead of a story exhorting people to grow up, I'm afraid I may have unleashed the fury of any political forces who have usurped the word “vulnerable” for their own use.
So, having submitted my original story yesterday, and having lain awake worrying about it all night, I have decided to remove it from consideration at that publication this morning, edit, clarify and add to it, and maybe have to self-publish it.
I am sorry for swerving into this hot button for some, but there you are. Now after all these edits, here I am, still exhorting people to grow up, but now in a slightly different way.
I guess I was too vulnerable when I started this story, but now I have learned better.
For now, thank you for your time. (my profile — Twitter)
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