Waiting

Because I wish to become a published writer who is actually paid, rather than someone working in the blogosphere alone, I took my writing to a place that could possibly pay me.

I figured I had a better chance by storming the bastion of ink and paper than if I just emailed it in. That worked for Isaac Asimov. Not so much for me. At least, not yet.

I screwed up my courage and took samples of my writing to the local newspaper. They are a small twice-a-week publication that mails the papers out to our homes. I’m not sure exactly how this all works because they were running presses yesterday and the paper appeared in my mailbox today. The USPS isn’t known for that kind of turnaround. Perhaps they were running Friday’s paper.

Anyway, I took my stuff in and the women in the front office were very friendly. I left my printouts there and was told that the newspaper owner/publisher would look at them. I was also told that he was at lunch and I should try calling back later.

I did. He was not back from lunch yet. I was told to try again later.

I did. He was “away from his desk or on another line” so could I please leave a message. I did. I said my name, spelled my name, and gave my phone number twice s-l-o-w-l-y.

I’ve not heard back from him. I would love to hear from him. Even if he says “No, thank you” I would love to hear from him. I would like to know that while my writing was unsolicited, a local person would care enough about a local writer to acknowledge the work and the courage involved in putting one’s writing and ego out there.

However, in reality, this man owes me absolutely nothing. I walked through his business’s door without an invitation and requested something of him without knowing what would happen next. He owes me nothing. Southern charm and chivalry aside, he really didn’t ask for me to barge into his life and demand an audience.

I still wish he would call back. I would love to hear that he would enjoy including my pieces in his newspaper. I would love even more hearing that he would enjoy putting my writing into the other two newspapers he owns. I can handle that he may not have a venue for my writing at all.

I just wish he would call. Just to let me know that although it was unsolicited, it was daring and courageous and mighty ballsy to take the initiative. Perhaps, as a publisher and local businessman, he could, just maybe, say something kind to a person hoping and wishing to create a voice in the wilderness and light a lamp to information.

Maybe.

So, do you like my writing?