Tomorrow We Will Run Faster

I once took a test which told you out of all the literary characters in the world which you would be.  Ignoring only the question on gender, I made my way through the test. 

Pages of questions later I was ready to receive my result.  I clicked next, and was given my answer...

Jay Gatsby.

I'm no millionaire genius, nor am I hung up on some chick who can't be bothered to care for her child (or take any real part in her own life).  Still, Gatsby and I do share some similarities.  Both sailors, both poor.  Both nearly destroyed by one relationship.  Both almost--but not quite--Oxford (wo)men.  Both driven towards success, yet repulsed by the party culture in which the successful live. 

Above all, both obsessed with the green light.

For Gatsby, this was Daisy; but more than that, it was the wealth, the power, and the sense of belonging that old money seemed to enjoy. 

For me, it is writing.

I have other loves: film, for example, and gifted education, and travel.  But being able to call myself a writer is something I want more than anything else in the world.

My friend once said something that stuck with me.  I was with him at a party, introducing him as a tattoo artist.  He corrected me, saying he was just a tattooist.  I asked what he meant...what the difference was.  He said:

"Anyone can pick up a tattoo gun and ink someone...that doesn't make you a tattoo artist.  Being a tattoo artist is something that takes time, and talent, and real artistry.  It's something you earn.  Until I feel like I've earned it I don't want to call myself a tattoo artist."

This resonated with me.  I've met a million people who scribble down half a short story or a prosaic sonnet and call themselves writers.  And if that works for them, so be it.  But I don't want to call myself a writer until I truly feel like I've earned it.  Until I'm holding Traditor in my hands, with Damnatio Memoriae on the way, I'll always refer to myself as an aspiring writer.

And on that note, I'm going to go do a little research on literary agencies...just in case The Blair Partnership doesn't get back to me (or does, and answers no).

Good night you princes of Maine, you kings of New England.


Working Title: Bryn & Mer: Damnatio Memoriae
Word Count: 140
Writing Mode: Dozy, but driven