Fan girlies

I have a little group of fan ladies - women of a "certain age" I guess you could say. They are by no means the majority of my customer base - just the most vocal lately. Maybe because they prefer to order the old fashioned way, instead of internet shopping. They write in (with checks - who uses those any more?) and put the whole thing in a happy greeting card with a cheery little handwritten note. Or they call in and chat merrily for a few minutes, with stories and sunny words of support, cheerleading my little business on.

It makes all the difference in the world to hear from them and always makes my day. One glorious gal told me she loves to receive the newsletters so much, that they are some of the best reading she's seen in years, better than a lot of the novels she's read. I was so touched, but didn't really believe her. I mean there are many kinds of writers in the world -- magazine article writers, travel writers, fiction writers, manual writers, short story writers, advertising copy writers. They are all different and I've never tried any of that stuff. Plus, I've never really thought of myself as a real writer. Just a dabbler.

Sure, I can put together a few paragraphs for a dinky newsletter, ok. I can even plunk out these bloggy things pretty regularly. Is that really a writer? I know some blog writers actually make it a career - enlisting sponsors and having thousands of readers daily. But that's not my aspiration. I'm not that into sharing I guess. And there isn't even that much going on in my humble life to wax eloquent about.

But it's gotten me thinking about writing. Wouldn't it be great to just sit in front of the computer for days, weaving a strand of little jewels that become the next best seller? I'm pretty sure there's nothing like that it in me. It probably takes a lot of practice, discipline, and education. And I've no patience for that kind of thing.

If it doesn't come out of my head the right way the first time I just chuck it. I have to type fast because it's the conversation in my head, exactly as it rolls out (ew, is that brain vomit?). No planning, laying out plots or outlines, just letting it roll.

And you see? This is why I am not a writer. There is no point to any of this whole dialog. Except that I love my little fan club. And when they cheer me on so enthusiastically, I begin to imagine bigger things for myself that I wouldn't have done on my own. Big smooch to my fan girlies.