Yes, I know, the word is ‘praiseworthy’, but
hey…words are what I do. One perk of writing is being able to make up words and
languages. Ask J.R.R Tolkien*.
*Looking at the massively famous/popular/prolific JRRTolkien
and GRRMartin, I am considering changing my name to DRRSevier-Fries. The RR has
got to be some sort of demonic, sell-your-soul-to-the-devil symbol, which, by
the way, I am totally open to…
To receive fame and fortune was never a goal
of my wanting to be a writer. Fame would be cool for a while but from what I
can see of celebrity, well, I think I’ll pass. As far as fortune goes, the truth is, I
was married to a wealthy man and had more security and cash than one should
hope for in a lifetime, and I was miserable. I had a
stalemate, not a soulmate.
At present, I am a busy quill pusher who supplements
my writing career by running (with my fine, imported soulmate) a wee family oriented motel in
the bowl of a rim of mountains called Hope, BC Canada and although we live simply and have a steady but decidedly average
income, I could not be happier. (*well, not unless Sean Bean came to town dressed
as Boromir and wanted me to test every mattress in the place with him…but that might not happen.)
But as happy as I am, I am over-the-moon
happier today because of one incident. It reinforced the one thing I have discovered
that I DO want to get out of my writing: Praise. I received a smidgeon of unexpected praise
today and it blew me away. Far too much, obviously, but it was a rush
nonetheless:
An innocuous little blurb from a stranger on a Face Book group made my day. My week. My month.
I got a 5 star rating for my book once that
sent me reeling too, but somehow, this praise was even more validating. Go
figure. Maybe I am just an insecure storyteller who appeals to 2 or 3 people.
Well then…so be it. But those 2 or 3 people
are now in my Will.
