Ha! How's that for a revelation?
Here's what I mean to say: Did you ever have a hobby or even a passion--something that you do well at, something that you take some pride in--only to experience someone else's genius and feel completely humbled and maybe like a poser?
I have fun writing. Always have. Since I was very young girl.
And sometimes I allow myself to believe I'm an okay writer. Once in college (and by "college" I'm referring to the local community college that wasn't much more than super high school) at the end of a term my English prof wrote a note on my final essay that read: "You were my best writer this quarter."
She didn't make that comment the following quarter, however . . .
Even so, I've enjoyed trotting out my little day-to-day life compositions and getting some positive feedback here on my blog. It's a fantastic outlet for me and there are some days when I'm really happy with something I've written. Some days I even let myself feel a sense of, hmmm, accomplishment maybe?
That sense is threadbare at best.
I've never read any Stephen King before but recently picked up "Duma Key" and from the beginning it was clear to me that King is an unmatchable craftsman.
Halfway through the book: "Each morning I walked on the beach with my pouch slung over my shoulder, prospecting for shells and any other interesting litter that might have washed up. I found a great many beer and soda cans (most worn as smooth and white as amnesia), a few prophylactics, a child's plastic raygun, and one bikini bottom."
"Most worn as smooth and white as amnesia." Who imagines that analogy? Not me. Not if given a thousand years to think it over. And the most frustrating thing about that line? It's parenthetical. An afterthought.
That's just showing off.
Yeah, I know the literati probably doesn't consider King any sort of serious heavyweight. But his skill blows me away just the same. Makes me want to break my pencils : )
Thank goodness the blogosphere leaves a place for amateurs!