She Be The Amateur

To live a creative life, we must lose our fear of being wrong. Joseph Chilton Pearce


I am an amateur writer. You may interpret that as you wish. To me, it means a beginner, someone learning, someone who hasn’t reached their apex yet. I’m not particularly concerned with any label, amateur or professional. I’ll likely always consider myself the A word. There is just so much to aspire to, so many phenomenal writers out there right now. Chances are they feel like amateurs now and again as well.

There is a certain freedom in it. As soon as someone throws the confining term ‘professional’ at you, it can take what was once a joy and turn it into a job. Creatives hate the word job. We want to have fun, enjoy the experience, feel a little breathless at the end. Be a Pro? The money would sure be nice, but just don’t expect too much of us. We want to do it our way, in our time.

May be I am a dilettante, a bumbler. So be it. But I am having fun. So no labels. Let me bumble. Imagine your dad drunk at a wedding, doing the heaven/earth, heaven/earth finger point made famous by Travolta, while belting out ‘You Should Be Dancing’. At that moment, he is Barry Gibb. Is that really the time to tell him he’s  no pro? I don’t think so. The old boy barely ever busts loose as it is.

Let me be Barry once in a while. You can be Maurice and your sister can be the other one. Let me be the happy amateur. And trust me, no one will clap for your bumbling as loud as I will. Because here’s what I know: Every professional was once an amateur. Keep on.

5 thoughts on “She Be The Amateur

  1. HA! I can not in good conscience let you be Barry. You have too much potential (no offense, Mr. Gibb).

    The hardest thing I’ve learned as a writer is not to take rejection personally. I’ll never actually be comfortable with rejection, whenever it happens I have an annoying habit of thinking I’m a failure, rather than considering that maybe my piece wasn’t a good fit for their magazine. The second hardest thing I’ve learned is to have faith in myself. I’ll never be able to write like Emily Bronte, but then again not everyone likes Wuthering Heights.

    Like a writer friend once said to me, you can learn to write, but you can’t learn to be witty. And even though you just started, you already possess the kind of wit that so many long-time writers would kill to have.

    • I thank you deeply. Your opinion DOES matter to me! Because I hold you responsible for all this you see here! Ha ha! And I have to be Barry, because I’m pretty sure I’m the tallest, and if I don’t wax, my beard makes me look uncannily like him.

    • Thank you Joan. But not more than a Barry. Damn it, now I ‘ve got ‘MoreThan a Woman’ running through my head! Fucking Bee Gees! You think of ONE song, and the whole album plays in your head! Here I go: heaven/earth, heaven/earth…

Go on. Talk to Mama Duck.

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