On the drive home from the latest showing of his art, DNe compared me to Picasso. You read that right, he was comparing me to one of the most famous artists of the 20th century. DNe is concerned that I'm not giving my writing as much attention as I give his art. I encourage him and support him and brainstorm all the time when it occurs to him that he should do the same for me with my writing. Despite the lame attempt at the previous sentence, I'm actually good with words. He thinks I'm talented, have a sharp mind and tell stories well. I entertain people through my writing and he's concerned I don't spend enough time ensuring those words get out there.
It was an interesting conversation from several viewpoints. He's growing up. He's aware of all the support he gets. He pays more attention than I've given him credit for and he knows the value of networking. He wants to become a publisher so that the world reads my work. He thinks I should band together with dozens of my talented friends. He's listened to most of my suggestions for marketing his work, and is now turning my words back on me. He's smart, he's funny and he's afraid I'll stop writing, be discouraged that I'm not published.
Picasso did some of his best work in his fifties so age isn't a deterrent. I assured him it wasn't.
All joking aside, he had a point. I've written so many books that are now in the hatbox behind the couch or stored on flash drives. I accepted the rejections, moved on, wrote other books. After some thought, I realized nothing has been sent out for awhile. Not even Casey's story. And that's a shame. It has the potential to change lives. Sharing his experience has already helped two dogs. We'd like to help more.
Picasso didn't hide his work away. Neither should I.
I'll send something out on Monday