All I Really Wanted

For a Pagemaster's challenge. We were given the first four words and the last three. The assignment was to fill in the space between.

 

 

Even after my death, the polite refusal letters continued to fill my mail box.

For many weeks they came.

No apologies, no specific reasons or feedback.

My submittals just didn’t fit this criteria or that genre of this or that publishing house. 

I can’t believe I kept sending my treasures off to cold strangers,

even until the end.

 

I guess I’d always dreamed that eventually someone would at last feel the passion

and understand the hope, the agony, the inspiration.

I just knew that I would somehow connect with the right editor

who would recognize and appreciate those little parts of my soul

so neatly organized and carefully rhymed.

I had hoped, I suppose, that perhaps one of my pieces would move them just as they had moved me.

 

And yet I never wrote anything for that reason.

I wrote them because I had to write them.

I remember telling God once that I would never write again

because no one cared about my work.

No one cared about how I saw or understood life.

But within a few weeks I could no longer contain it and I began to write again.

 

From that day forward I wrote only for my God

because He had whispered to me that He did care about my work

and He expected me to use the gift that He had given me.

A gift that truly was rare and precious.

A gift that He could use to touch others as He needed to,

with or without the aid of a publisher.

 

So I wrote about everything that inspired me.

I found a little place on the internet where I could share my work with others.

That in itself was one of the most rewarding things I ever did.

To be read and understood by others who shared this most precious gift.

Others who knew what it was like to be consumed by an idea or a thought

until it could no longer be contained and spilled onto paper.

 

And often I gave my pieces to friends when I really felt to.

It was amazing to see the tears fill their eyes as they read my words.

Oh sure, I continued to send the best off to publishers.

And they continued to reject them for this reason or that… but that was fine.

I knew God read them and my friends could feel my soul and spirit in each line.

That’s all I really wanted after all, and nobody objected.

 

Reviews

[emmajoy]

There is something in some people that makes them want to share thoughts in the form of poetry or prose, but, there comes a time when a wee pat on the shoulder from a publisher tells the writer that they've achieved a little magic.

It's not necessarily arrogance or ultra confidence, often the opposite that jogs us into feeling so deeply about a post that we need to share it, see if someone else thinks the same way, or, maybe, have a person understand a happiness or a sadness and know by the reaction that you're not alone or the other person isn't alone.

'To be read and understood by others who shared this most precious gift.
Others who knew what it was like to be consumed by an idea or a thought until it could no longer be contained and spilled onto paper.'

The one thing you can be sure of is that no matter what others think there is that Special Someone who knows you do your best to open your heart and scribble away as well you can.

This is such a fine post, makes me feel comfortably content.

[Emily B]

maybe we ought to make sure that we feature our words once a year so that friends can come back and re-visit the words that moved them before . . .

so glad to read these words again

finally collecting a little something beyond rejection, nice editor of a little press south of me, mentioned I came in runner up of his contest, that he still wanted to publish the manuscript, knowing better than to count chickens before they hatch I didn't pay much attention, but I'm waiting for a proof now . . . seems like it will happen

[Emily B]

I've been collecting rejection lately, too. It works until I collect something else someday.

[Quiet Waters Rise]

Oh my goodness, AK -- that was truly amazing! It was so very touching and beautifully written, and so very true as well.

I think that this poem would deeply touch anybody who has a passion for writing.

"I guess I'd always dreamed that eventually someone would at last feel the passion
and understand the hope, the agony, the inspiration."

.. I think that you have accomplished that and so much more with your writing. It is really an amazing piece and brought so much emotion to my heart.

[Jamie S.]

You said what we all as writers feel, quite an accomplishment! You should be beeming about this one, I would! Thank you.

[Gandré]

very pretty. loved it. i think you are very talented. words deliver a marvelous sophistry ... for hearts.

[BrightEyes]

wow - you did a wonderful job here - I felt you were truly speaking from beyond - watching the goings on after your demise. I liked all the reasons you write - sure, we all aspire to be published - but that isn't WHY we write- it's a need, a desire that must be met, no way to ignore it. great write!

P.S. I was drawn by your avatar - Alaska is somewhere I can't wait to get to go visit!

[Carole]

And, I would say you met your challenge! :-) Very thought provoking piece, AK. Have a good one, Carole

[alternative_be]

The beginning of this seemed surreal to me, yet it made me think of the publicity folders, still being sent out to the original owner of my home, who had it built in ... 1933! Mrs. T. died in the eighties at the age of eighty something. Her daughter of whom I bought the house died last year, aged 82. I am still getting mail adressed to her or her husband! Often it is publicity or junkmail, which I can dispose of. Sometimes it are official letters that I can pass on to her daughter who still is a neighbour ...
So far my review of the Belgian postal services!
But I can relate to your work at another level as well. Often I get the feeling that it is not so important how well you write, but who you know in the publishing world and that networking seems to be even more important than your actual writing. I think this is so sad ... So many wonderful writings that nobody will read if it was not for sites like these.
Oh yes, I do believe we all start out writing for ourselves, for pleasure, to relax, to rant, to have an outlet for our fantasy. Though after having reached a certain point, we all need recognition, to be acknowledged.
My friends here rated me a top writer, though it might not impress a publishing company, I was touched by that badge, even I was able to see its relativity. Because like you put it: "And yet I never wrote anything for that reason.I wrote them because I had to write them."
I also write because I have to write...
Though you wrote according to the guidelines of an assignment that could lead to anything, your writing touched me deeply because I could relate to it very well.
Thank you for sharing!

[Robert Luna]

This was definitely a heart felt piece and as long as you write about what has inspired you i can't see how another could ever fault you for that. It is always in my opinion more important to make a person feel something than to worry about rhyming or anything like that truly an inspirational piece of work here.

Great Job!!!!!