Thursday, October 12, 2023

RED ROVER, RED ROVER, LET VASTINE COME OVER....

 

I'm sick of not having the courage to be an absolute nobody.

-- J. D. Salinger, "Franny and Zooey"




Red Rover, Red Rover, send that kid—any kid but Vastine—right over! Oh, the memories. Do you remember that game from school? Even then, as young as we were, we were being conditioned to try to fit in or be counted out, even if it was just a silly sport.

I wasn't athletic. I was emotionally torn—half of me praying that I wouldn't get chosen on a team because I knew I was lousy at games and the other half of me was sad because I didn't—and I mean never—got picked for the teams. Well, I take that back. I did get picked. Eventually. By whichever poor team got stuck with me. My only hope was to be outed before the game was even under way.

Not much has changed since those days of being afraid of not being picked and scared of being picked because I knew I was going to suck at any game.

But why did I still pitifully have that deep yearning to be picked me for a team? Why, even when I knew I couldn’t perform, when I knew I'd end up running off the playground feeling all this kid-like failure, did I still long to hear my name? Red Rover, Red Rover, send Vastine right over. 

Same reason any kid did and does. They want to be acknowledged. They want to be accepted. As much as many of us—yes, even me—snort that we don't care if we fit in, we don't care if we're popular, I think many of us really, deep down, do want to fit in. We want validation from any sector of life we've chosen.

And acknowledging that to myself is why I cherish the Salinger quote. Because it takes courage to not want or need to fit in. To not want to be somebody is not in most natures. It's not in mine.

 I've been writing for as long as I can remember. I've been seriously writing since 2009. I became a published author in 2011. When I made up my mind to write with a goal of being published, I had big dreams. I had silly, unrealistic dreams. Dreams that my writing would be the ticket. Nothing else would really matter. My pen would be my strength. My writing would be so good it would sell itself.


I can hear you laughing from here!

No, no, no. I’m not saying my writing stinks. I do at least have enough confidence in my craft to think I've some talent.

I've had a hard knock comeuppance in this game. And, like those old days, I've found myself on the playing field, realizing that fitting in just might be crucial.

I once heard some writers being referred to as 'royalty' because of their  popularity status. My heart sank clean down to my feet to find myself back on the field where being 'able’—not as in just decent writing, but strong in personality—was going to make a difference in anything.

 I've yet to put my finger on how this all works.


The bottom line? I see that to pitch me is a necessary part of this writer success thing. And it’s so terrifying that I'm tempted to rush back to the early days when I just wrote and I didn't give a hoot if I sold a book or not. I simply wrote because I adored writing and because I had something to say and I wanted someone—even if it was only one damn person—to read it.

I see something pitiful about myself, something that makes that urge to do a J. D. Salinger and disappear. And that is this: I'm lying if I tell you I do not want to fit in. Come on. Even in the book, Salinger’s character only said he wished he didn't want to fit in. But he did. He did want to be somebody.

So do I. I really do.

And let me tell you. It’s hard to admit that I wish I could be part of the 'in' crowd. Many may not admit it, but more of us than will admit wish we could be “royalty”, too.
No, I’ll never be that author who’s a household name. But I'll keep writing. Because I do love it, I can't live without it. No matter where it takes me.

I will know, with everything in me, that the 'not fitting in' will not have anything to do with my writing. It will not be because my writing isn't good enough. Sometimes writing reminds me of this piano....



It just sits out in this foggy field, not being played. Because it's alone out there and not seen by many, doesn't mean it has no beautiful song inside it to play. And it doesn't mean it doesn't long for someone to hear it. It does.
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Hey, sweet sis! Your writing is amazing, and so are you! But I do understand how you feel. Believe me when I say that your talent and imagination puts some of those 'royal' authors to shame! I love that you are writing this blog! Big hugs and lots of love! Sarah

Vastine Bondurant said...

Hey, there, Sweet Sis!
Thank you so much for visiting!
And thank you for the sweet words! I can so very much say the same for YOUR writing, my gifted writer friend! Love you!