There’s a platform at the beach.
It’s blue.
It’s made out of plastic.
It’s anchored to the sea floor and floating in the middle of the bay.
People go there to sunbathe and frolic.
And, yesterday, my 8-year-old niece wanted to go there.
“Anna, are you sure you’ll make it to the platform?” I asked.
She had learned to swim just 6 months earlier and had not progressed beyond the doggie paddle yet.
“Yes!”
I could see the determination in her eyes.
“It’s an awful long swim,” I said.
“Huh?” Now a little hesitant, “Well, you’re coming with me, aren’t you?”
“Of course!”
She gave me a bright smile and we went into the water.
“There!” she said “Let’s go to that yellow buoy first!”
The quest began.
Waddle swim. Waddle swim. Paddle paddle paddle.
She reached the first buoy, with me close behind her.
Waddle swim. Waddle swim. Doggie paddle. Doggie paddle.
She reached the second buoy.
Third buoy.
Fourth buoy.
“Ooooff... I need a break.”
“Just hold on and take a rest.” I said “There’s no hurry.”
After barely a minute, “Okay, next one!”
And on we went.
Buoy after buoy, slowly, but steadily.
And eventually, although it seemed to take forever, she reached the platform all by herself.
Yaay! Hooray! She had made it!!!
And she was incredibly proud of herself.
Now, when it comes to my online writing career, I feel much the same way as Anna.
That platform of success, which would allow me to earn a steady livable income from my writing alone, seems awfully far away. And although I have my gaze fixed on it at all times, progress is terribly slow.
Of course, I have already conquered a couple of buoys. So I have some reason to be proud. And yet, I don’t seem to be getting much closer to the platform itself.
But I’m swimming. I’m paddling in the water like a wet poodle.
And I know I still have to doggie paddle a good stretch before I’ll ever reach that platform. And I know I’ll have to take breaks.
But just like Anna felt safe and secure knowing that I was behind her, I sort of feel the same way about you.
Yes, you.
So I want to take a moment here to thank you. I want to thank you for being a subscriber of this newsletter and for being part of my audience.
It means a lot to me.
I know that without you, I would have given up long ago.
And although I don’t know if I have Anna’s stamina, I feel just as confident as her. Because, again, I have you, watching me, paying attention.
Once more, thank you ❤️
One Piece of Terrible Writing Advice I See All the Time
“No one cares about you and your life”
You’re NOT special! You’re NOT some unique beautiful snowflake whose “rich inner life” is worth sharing! What the heck did you think? That you’re bloody Anne Frank, living through momentous times that need to be preserved for effing posterity?!
The reality is no one gives a flying crap about you and your dreams, hopes, struggles, and boring anecdotes! You’re a freaking nobody! You’re as forgettable as a tiny little frog burp in the wake of a blue whale’s fart!
It’s all about the reader, stupid! So make it about THEM! Stick to the topic at hand and spare them your self-indulgent solipsistic egocentric navel and butt-hole gazing!
Oh, wow… Thanks for that…
Thanks for reading!
— David