AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (26) A Sunday Story (Novelnovella Excerpt) (Short Stories) A small town loves and lies on a Sunday afternoon. [2,381 words] Ain't You Heard? (Poetry) A self-reflecting poem. [13 words] An Obligation In Kalamazoo (Short Stories) - [1,298 words] Every Good Boy Deserves Fudge (Short Stories) Patricia Fudge, a chocolate-lover who suffers a breakdown after becoming fixated with a guy named Elliott, whom she stalks. After she finds out that she cannot have his affections, she decides to use ... [1,143 words] Finding A Poem (Poetry) Writing poetry is the one of the most challenging venues of a young writer's career. Mastering the technique requires the power of language, and finding a poem somewhere in your thoughts. [13 words] Grayfield South (Short Stories) Two families converge when tragedy strikes. [7,086 words] [Mystery] Let No Man Tell My Story (Non-Fiction) - [1,274 words] Morning In Detroit (Poetry) The beauty of Detroit on a weekend morning. [354 words] Moving Beyond The Pain (Essays) - [2,014 words] Nighttime Babies (Short Stories) A man encounters two strange individuals on a weird Sunday night. [5,565 words] [Science Fiction] On And Off The Wall (Essays) - [1,538 words] Secrets From A Writer's Notebook (Short Stories) Isn't it wonderful when a writer's work is read and fiction becomes reality? It makes you wonder whose following you, who are your "true fans." Lovely is the new sarcasm. [257 words] Sestina!The Look! (Poetry) A woman walking in an inner-city neighborhood after a rainstorm questions the disconnection she feels from others of different backgrounds. She undergoes an epiphany that challenges her preconceived n... [306 words] Sing The White Note Black (Novel Excerpt) (Short Stories) An aspiring jazz musician comes of age in 1950's Detroit. [11,701 words] Sips Of My Coffee (Short Stories) - [732 words] The Cat And The Mouse (Short Stories) An adventure short story. [1,367 words] [Adventure] The Far Side Of My Room (Poetry) A writer's journey. [228 words] The Far Side Of The Room (Poetry) - [228 words] The Man Called Daddy (Novella Excerpt) (Novels) - [5,589 words] The Motown Chronicles: Sing The White Note Black (Novel Excerpt) (Novels) A jazz musician comes of age in 1950's Detroit. [11,701 words] The Nightmare Of Henry Dudds (Short Stories) This is a novel excerpt from The Motown Chronicles: Sing the White Note Black. I have decided to include this story in the trilogy that I am working on after all. [3,344 words] The Other Side Of Me (Short Stories) This story was inspired by the darker side of my hometown of Detroit, Michigan. [1,456 words] The Sidewalk (Poetry) A woman sees her neighborhood for how it really is. [396 words] The Theory Of Knowledge According To A Woman Named Righteous (Poetry) A woman is hearbroken over her decaying hometown. [224 words] [Romance] The Weight Of His Hands (Poetry) - [13 words] Three Different Ways To Tell A Lie (Short Stories) A father finds out that his son is not what he seems. [1,177 words]
How I Ought To Be As A Writer Piper Davenport
There are two characters here: Good girl, who is the do-er and Bad Girl, who is the Procrastinator.
GG: I am a writer.
BG: I am not a COMPLETE writer, you mean.
GG: I have written some things but nothing special.
BG: But not ENOUGH.
GG: I am on my way!
BG: Your way is taking much too long (voice drips with sarcasm).
GG: Stop saying that! I am trying, I am doing the best I can, right?
BG: Your best is not good enough. That’s why I think you should take a break. For maybe a day or two or three or four or five or six or seven. I mean, you’re not Sophia Loren for goodness sake. You’re not some goddess whose dreams are going to magically happen overnight. You are just you, a nobody, someone no wants to know. Deal with it. I mean, it’s completely arrogant to think that out of six billion people in the world, that people would read a beginner writer’s work, taste your words, savor in your surprises, disappointments, rejections, highlights, advances and setups. What makes you think of putting your name and standout in the same sentence?
GG: Hey, I like the way I write, sometimes. And when I don’t, sometimes I’ll stop and read a book or go see a movie and celebrate the rejection I’m about to receive. Then, I’ll start again and again and write crap. But then, I’ll just look at it and play with the words until they sound write. Even if I’m in a room full of people, it sounds right to me and they’re half-way paying attention, then I’m okay.
BG: You mean, writing from the heart? Sounds romantic but it doesn’t pay the bills.
GG: It is romantic. Life is romantic, especially the would-be writer. It’s like a relationship. It’s the thrill of the chase or being chased after. That’s the fun part. It’s the journey from beginning to end.
BG: Yeah, I guess but the ending is so bogus. What do you do? Start over again. Sounds like a chore, like washing the dishes. Yuck! No, it’s like homework. Something you have to do and that’s why you’re not a real writer: Blind optimism. You’d be better off in politics. Me, I have to know where I’m going.
GG: Who knows where I am going to end up at? I can’t predict anything, all I can do is love the words on the page and the language and everything that makes me feel good and go from there. I may not ever get rid of you but that’d be worse than getting rid of me and my hopes and dreams. As long as I finish, you will always be second to me, right?
BG: Who said anything about second place? I didn’t even know there was one!
GG: Umm, yeah. Second place means settling. Accepting less than what you deserve.
BG: So, are you saying that I’m holding you back? I didn’t force you to stop writing. Didn’t force you to take other people’s comments to heart? Didn’t force you to publish the first piece of crap that comes to mind? Where is my gun? I don’t have one. Oh, no! If anyone is to blame, it’s you!
GG: Me? You’ve GOT to be kidding me!
BG: No, I’m serious. Blaming other people, making excuses, it’s all a part of the rose-colored glasses you wear in your failure to accept your vision.
GG: I don’t think I looked at anything in my life quite that way. Maybe you’re right. I need to stop trying to make myself into something I’m not and just accept that I’m okay with how I write. There’s room in the universe for me and even you too. After all, who’s going to tell be the negative force in my life that engages me and keeps me on my toes?
BG: That would be me.
GG: And who’s going to welcome distraction in my life to keep me from burning out?
BG: That would be me.
GG: And who’s going to help me to write by creating this obstacle course in my brain That I must complete. Kind of like when I was in fourth grade? *Cries* I must, I must do something with my bust. Oh, what is the damn line? I’m getting Judy Blume flashbacks!
BG: Get over yourself.
GG: Yeah, sit and spin. Anyway, where was I? Oh, that’s right! I decree that my life is filled with not listening to other people but instead just following my inner-guide.
BG: That sounds terrible. Cocky. Wimpy. Cowardly.
GG: Oh, that’s not what I meant. What I mean is getting to a place where I’m following my passions and writing. More than yoga, more than calling a psychic, more than winning the lottery. Caring about nothing else except learning and reading and writing and moving forward. That my friend is the greatest self-gift for the would-be writer.
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