Cynicism!!

Today at work, I realized how cynical old people can be.

One of the librarians I work with has a Masters degree in Creative Writing, and another in Library Science (hence his job).

I thought it'd be cool to chat with the guy, especially considering my recent enrollment in UCO's Creative Studies degree program.

To put it mildly, I was wrong.

One of the big concepts being discussed in my current Creative Writing class is that publishing is not the end-all and be-all of writing.
The act of writing has inherent benefits, such as expressing vague emotions in words, recalling experiences, and giving the writer windows into his or her own soul.

Either I was making a bumbling mess of describing this concept to the librarian, OR (more likely) he has become calloused and bitter over time.

Even SAYING "publishing shouldn't be your only goal as a writer" elicited dirty looks and tone of voice that could only be described as haughty.
"Well don't you want people to read what you write?"
...as if I were a moron.

I responded that I'M reader too, and I derive pleasure from reading my own material, even if all I'm doing is marking it up with a red pen until the page resembles a slasher movie set.

I added that if the only person who ever gets to read what I write is my wife, then that is enough.

If I enrich ONE reader through my abilities, then as a writer I have accomplished something great.


I say this still harboring a desire to create literature of such wit and depth that it gains me a small sliver of immortality, even if I turn out to be a literary one-hit-wonder.

HOWEVER, that sliver can wait.

For now, my goal is to write, not to be published.
I've had two poems published already, quite proud of myself for that actually.

But my short stories continue to pour from me as I gain inspiration from a million sources a day, while my novels await my next view into the windows of my characters.