Harsh reality has a way of staring us in the face sometimes … In my case, being an aspiring writer, it’s the harsh realities of trying to “ascend to the spectacular” but finding yourself daily bathing in a perceived tub of lukewarm mediocrity. I sincerely believe in my efforts to “rise to the spectacular”, are because I view life as spectacular, and am driven to relay my experiences. Hoping to make my “ink” rise to the occasion.

“I can hear the echo of some voices asking: “Why would any seemingly normal person or other, want to take on such a task as the tough world of literature presents?” Well, I guess each writer would have their reasons. I will mention a few without expressing a yea or a no to each one. What would be a legitimate reason for one writer, might not even be in the thinking of another writer. Some writers “Make might more of themselves than they ought to.” ( I most likely fall into this category.) Other writers are probably a little or quite a bit vain. Others may simply believe that what they are putting forth is profound and the world needs to hear it, which may or may not be true.

Unless one is of the caliber of an Oscar Wilde, a Shakespeare, an Edgar Allan Poe, or a Samuel Clemens, to mention a few, mediocrity has probably shadowed over and tapped you on the shoulder a few times. Quite possibly, even the great ones may have struggled with what they perceived as their work being mediocre.

The bar has been set very high (and rightly so) by the likes of the above-mentioned writers and as I said, these are just a few.

Sylvia Plath is quoted as once saying “There is nothing worse than a big stinking pile of unpublished poetry. I concur. This poor troubled soul ended up committing suicide. So, I’m caught up in the struggle of “not throwing the proverbial mediocre baby out with the bathwater.”

Walking today … Appalachian Trail … Virginia.

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