The other day I was a tad frustrated with my writing. After I slammed my lap top shut, I laid back on the couch and wished I had some sort of remarkable talent, something that I was born awesome at, something I didn’t have to work so freaking hard for.
If you weren’t a writer, what talent/skill would you work on?
I’ve given other talents a shot and haven’t been terrifically successful. I’m can’t sing harmony, I’m too shy to act, and I apparently can’t count to twelve so that rules out knitting.
Dance left me with a bum knee and gymnastics gave me two jacked up wrists and shoulder, so anything physical is pretty much shot. And really, those aren’t things you can do forever. Who wants to see an eighty-year-old in a unitard?
I love to build stuff, but power tools and toddlers are a dangerous combination.
Besides strawberries, I’ve killed everything I’ve ever tried to grow.
The more stuff I list, the more I realize that the one thing I’m incredible at is being stubborn. I sing at church and dance in my kitchen. I am working on a lopsided scarf, and already picked out the beds for my tomatoes for the spring.
Even though I may not be the most naturally gifted writer, I’m not going to give it up.
Someday my scarf will be done and I’ll make salsa from my tomatoes.
And have a book in my library with my name on it.