Recently I've had among the greatest successes of my fledgling writing career. Along with my recent publications in Grimdark Magazine and Odd Tree Press Quarterly, I am now a proud Writers of the Future finalist!
The truth is, however, that I don't much relish the idea of talking about these sorts of things. I recognize this as a part of what I'm trying to accomplish; blogging, tweeting (@tcpowellfiction), tooting your own horn, it's all part and parcel with the "business end" of writing (and, so far as I can tell, modern society). I can't stop from doing it... and in fact, I recognize that I have to do it more, and better. But if there's any truth to having an "inner nature" (and I suspect so), this goes against mine. I've never had a taste for ceremony or celebration... I didn't attend my junior high graduation, and if I could have skipped the high school or college ones, I would have. But I went for the sake of others, and that's something like what brings me here, now.
It's not that I'm not grateful to those who've assisted me in getting where I have, or don't feel a touch of pride at what I've accomplished. I am and I do. But I always feel like there's more yet to be done and that celebrations are premature. I have so much further to travel, and that awareness seems to temper my ability to enthuse about how far I've come.
Anyways, if you'll forgive me stumbling my way through this process, and my awkward attempts to let you know who I am and what I've done, I'd appreciate it. In return, I'll do what I can to become a better writer and a better spokesperson for myself.
For today, I'll announce that I remain a "Writer of the Future... of the future," but that I'm one step closer to achieving a goal I'd set for myself years ago.
And that's not so bad.