It’s been a few weeks since I last wrote on my blog, I really have nothing to tell regarding my writing only that all my books are selling well, and I hope you get the same pleasure from reading them as I got from writing them.
But it was whilst contemplating the business of writing I recalled the first time I decided to write full-time. It was just after a brief encounter with the voluntary sector where I gave my time and energy freely, to be met by a bitch of a woman who took an instant dislike to me and decided I might be a threat to her paid job.
After retiring from one stressful job (teaching) I didn’t want to be part of another, especially when I wasn’t being paid for the pleasure. But something positive came out of that negative experience – if I hadn’t met that bitch of a woman, I might never have decided to come out of the closet to tell all my family I am a writer, and from now on I will be writing full time.
I must state quite clearly, I do appreciate all the good work volunteers do, and have done in the past. Perhaps it was my destiny to be confronted by such an awful young woman and her equally unpleasant boss. So here is my homage to them.
WITH GOOD INTENTION
It was not my usual habitat, but with good intention
I entered that alien environment,
The like of which compared to a foreign battlefield,
Where awareness had to be whisker sensitive.
But, I am not of the feline genus.
I am a complex being called a human.
Not always knowing what lurks behind every tree:
In every bush: A sniper?
I should never have entered that strange landscape.
The approach was strewn with too many obstacles,
Where insincerity, self-interest and egocentricity were the rules of engagement.
And the motto of every battle-hardened combatant was ‘Every Man For Himself’.
My life, unlike theirs, is turning towards winter,
And after a long, hot, productive summer, I am sure of one thing.
I have nothing to prove.
And I will never be moulded into shapes of acquiescence.
© Patricia I. Smith. (22nd August, 2012)