There Will Be Nothing Left
It was said to me that I should consider publishing my words, so that there might be something left for my decendents… my thoughts and response went like this:
There will be nothing left for my descendants - I intend to destroy all of my writings before I expire. It is enough that I had the enjoyment of writing and reading what I wrote; some I have shared by choice, and now I have earned the dubious honor of having a professional inquire as to my attitudes concerning publishing my words.... I do not wish to do that.
Do you know how many, and what occupations, gain from a book being published? Several. Many. More than a few. Be there enough to make it worthwhile? In numbers (quantity) there is sufficient compensation to achieve a fair balance between the writing and follow-up and the publishing process; the only person who actually benefits from all of that (and there is quite of bit of "all of that") is the reader, and then only if the choice of lifting the cover to scan the pages is of value for the time spent therein.
The writer gets the joy of his or her name on the package, perhaps a bit of honor or of notoriety (fame is such a presumptuous word), and the depression of not being able to duplicate the entire process again, and within a short time (for the emotions fall rather quickly upon a few night's sleep after the bit of fame has dimmed) - well, I would equate it, in a half-assed way, I suppose, to the professional golfer or sports player - they must keep going, keep doing what they did, and they must remain in their particular limelight, else they fail themselves and find no more of the rush they felt the first time through the tunnels.
And God help them if they have developed any sort of a following by their actions, as they would have the responsibility to please the fans, as much as pleasing themselves, which is more pressure than I would wish on anyone. I have never done well under pressure, and when rushed like that, I have only bitter tears that I keep to myself and that is another sort of depression, but one that hits the hardest.
Comments on this poem/writing:
|Becky (184.108.40.206) -- Monday, March 22 2021, 05:14 pm|
Always something left
The words you share here I hope will always remain. They have such meaning not only to me but to the people who need to read them and feel them to know they are not alone.
The feelings of your decedents will be the memories told from, felt and shared in their hearts.
To me there will be scraps of paper with the occasional thought left behind. A few old binders, perhaps read or unread. That is all that is needed. I agree with your thoughts on publishing. It's one thing to share your thoughts through writing, the ones you want to share. But it is another to have them forced from you or to be relived when you want to put them aside. But never stop writing. It is a way to release and relax the spirit within.. Be well my friend.
|Mental (220.127.116.11) -- Thursday, April 1 2021, 03:10 am|
In a way your words will be forever on becky's page. Unless you request them to be taken off. But that's a different matter.
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