Hemmingway, I'm not

"You've missed your calling"

Occasionally, people will say this to me after reading the blog or one of my sales presentations and it makes me wonder. Have I? If I am bare naked honest with myself, I don't think that I have the chops or the talent to write as an occupation although sometimes, I'd really like to.

I imagine this scene where I am tucked inside a New York apartment overlooking Central Park (am wildly successful). I am wearing bifocals and clacking away on my computer (suggesting stress levels have been reduced and am now in possession of well manicured fingernails). The late afternoon sun is streaming through a window suspending dust particles in a shaft of light (must speak to full time housekeeper). It is quiet save for a clock ticking in another room (expensive, tasteful antique number acquired at auction). I am content, introspective and very much alone (omitted part about bowl of swiss truffles and bottle of French burgundy at hand). There is peace, a stillness, to this dream (children duct taped in closet) which appeals to me but there is also an undercurrent of something else that feels a lot like boredom. To me, writing is an introspective, solitary journey and I'm just not sure that I'd ever be ready to give my inner demons a little face time.

I've always wondered what goes on inside the brain of a truly gifted writer. When I first read, "White Oleander " by Janet Fitch, I was awestruck at how she strung her words together. There were hundreds of examples in that novel of sentences that were pieces of art all by themselves. I actually highlighted a large portion of this book and copied some of the more arresting bits of dialog onto sticky notes so I could digest them out of context.

I don't understand how someone like Margaret Atwood is able to carry on a conversation with mere mortals. I find her kind of genius intimidating and profoundly humbling. Her novels are labyrinths and occasionally, I am not sure if I'll find my way out. Reading her work requires patience and perseverance but the journey is worth it.

Or how about Stephen King's, "The Stand"? Where does material like that come from?

When I finish the last few words of a brilliant novel, I am always profoundly grateful for the read and quite sure that I am not capable of writing anything of that caliber for a sustained period of time. Sometimes, I'm happy with a paragraph or two but to maintain creative ability through out a book or manuscript feels like it is beyond my scope.

If I write a novel, I would want it to be so good that people would read until the wee hours of the morning because they COULDN'T put it down. I'd want them to finish it and wish that the ride hadn't ended so soon. I'd want some slick Hollywood type to struggle with the movie adaptation because it was just too complex for a cookie cutter script. I really hope that there might be one of these books laying dormant inside my brain but the reality is that there probably isn't and even if there was, odds are that you'd be able to find me in a discount hardcover bin twelve months later. There are THOUSANDS of clever writers out there who remain undiscovered. All one has to do is have a quick look at the blogging community. I've read posts that have left me speechless in their depth or breathless with laughter.

All is not lost, though. I think I could possibly have a future in romance novels. The common adage is to "write about what you know" so I could pen some fictional exaggeration about my experiences during the brief period that I was dating. The only trouble is that I believe most of the euphemisms for sex have been exhausted and I'd really have to give some thought on developing a few new ones because it's not like romance novels are read for their articles.

Boy meets girl. Boy likes girl. Girl despises boy but would like him to rip her clothes off. Boy chases girl. Girl resists. Girl eventually sees prince-like qualities within boy. Girl succumbs. Boy and girl deliriously happy. Giant misunderstanding. Boy and girl split. Misunderstanding resolved. Boy and girl shag like crazy while riding off into the sunset where they live happily ever after. It is a tried and true formula and must be liberally peppered with adult scenes. For instance, how does this one strike you?

He reached over with a smoldering look in his feral eyes, determined to take what she had steadfastly refused to surrender.

She protested weakly as the dam of her desire burst forth in a sudden, violent rush.

"Peel that banana, monkeyboy," she whispered.

Hmm... probably shouldn't give up the day job just yet.