Okay, so I’m operating in my zone, right. It’s my share-the-art-of-writing zone—no questions asked, no required payback implied. (‘Cause that’s the only way to keep my intentions pure.) When suddenly, I receive an obvious snub/overlook from someone I hold dear. And, it appeared to happen just when the literary grass looked greener elsewhere. (After all, this has happened multiple times down through the years.)
So I’m hurt, right. Stinging and bleeding from the injury, and laid out in the pity gutter. And, worse of all, I landed in the gutter because I allowed the offense to knock me off my Turning Dreams Tangible horse. Yes, I careened swiftly downward into Writer’s Demonland (that’s right, one word. One stinkin’ freakin’ word — Demonland).
Writer’s Demonland is the land of suffocating scum, muck and mire filled with filthy spirit-killing words and thoughts sent to sludge about in your creative brain. These words write (in your head and heart), What the Hell do I think I’m doing? How did I think I was ever going to succeed at this? How come I thought I could do this, in the first place, huh? That’s Chapter One. Then comes Chapter Two: Why is my validating success taking so long (you know the kind of validating success where folks honor your worth, talent and work with the respect of their time. Then there’s something about a man is worth his hire. And a man’s treasure is where his heart is. I paraphrase, but you get it. But instead, you highlight in your head the times when folks take from you, freely with no effort, while they invest much effort elsewhere. I’m digressing, but this is a sidebar: Often writers will hear that the first writer’s rule is to not go into a writing profession just for the money. Passion, and the love of, must overrule in every writer’s heart. True. But, usually the person who’ll remind you of that is a writer getting paid and/or someone in the biz who owes you money. (I’m just sayin’.)
But hold on, while I’ve appeared quite jaded thus far, there are a few lessons to be learned (and sadly, I keep relearning them). Now to my credit, while I was spread out in the filthy Demonland gutter crying my eyes out, I did have the wherewithal to ask, “How does God want me to feel about this—for it can’t be jealousy, envy or even offense.” For that’s just a waste of time. And He showered down the answers. (He’s good like that.)
Lesson One: No matter what you think you’ve seen or heard; you surely couldn’t have seen or heard it all. Nope, you really don’t have all the facts. So chill, sit (get a tissue if you must), and think for a moment before saying or doing/reacting to anything—if at all. Just record the stupid thing in your journal. At least there, maybe, the experience can chalk-up discernment for the future.
Lesson Two: Focusing on an offense and plummeting into Writer’s Demonland (sometimes also called the pity pot or the toilet bowl) stops your creativity and production; and, oh, it’s a stupid allotment of time (sometimes referred to a stupid, energy-sucking waste of time).
Lesson Three: Let offenses strengthen your skill and power to decide on just what or to whom you’re going to devote your precious time, hurt feelings and concern.
And so, what happened in my particular offense story, you might ask? Well, I was wrong. I didn’t have all the facts. I got all muddy, teary-eyed, and sludgy for nothing. And God wanted to remind me that my intentions must remain constant and pure (as humanly possible—that is). He will see to it that I am rewarded (evident by three wonderful opportunities that crossed my path shortly after), and He wanted to remind me that the world does not revolve around me. Oh Yeah, that’s number four.
Lesson Four: The world does not revolve around me. (Ouch, that’s a tough one.)
So what do you think about it? Lemmeknow. www.yvonnejmedley.com