I've been busy with cousins in for the holidays early, and the Small One has the school Christmas pageant tomorrow so I'm not working on the WIP but I did get a few minutes to read a few blogs this afternoon. Very interesting stuff. Like the title for this post.
It started me thinking where I would be today if I had started writing when I wanted to, when I should have, say around 1983. (Honest to God I am that old.) I could be Danielle Steele, Nora Roberts, Kasey Michaels.
I like old movies. I love old movie stars. Especially the men. When men were men.
Well, sort of. When women thought men were supposed to be that way. And it was all together too true when they found out they weren't. Men had faults and vices and disappointments. Remember Marlon Brando in On the Waterfront? His heart broken, defeated, remembering, he says, "I could'a been a contenda." God!
That's how I feel today. I could'a been a contenda'. I could have been famous. I mean with dedication to the art form of course. I have the thoughts, it just takes me a little while to get them to come out to be perfect sentences. With the right editor, I could have been a contender.
My cousin and I talked at great length about Tiger Woods and his *ahem* troubles. I mean c'mon who would have ever thought a guy like him would have done something so hurtful to his wife. One or two somewhere along the line of his career would have been devastating enough but 10! Twelve! Granted some of them are just looking for their 15 minutes of fame but imagine if these women are all legit. Shame, shame on you Tiger Woods. You have just fallen to #1 ScumBag of the Earth. You could have been a contender.
I saw my cousin tonight. He was really sick in October and his wife told me tonight she had to tell the doctor, "Do not resuscitate, do not ventilate," before she left the hospital the first night. My cousin nearly died. I'd tell you what kind of a man he is but it would take too many pages so let me quote from Jane Austen, "He is the truest and best of men." He IS a contender. He is a winner.
I have been learning alot from lurking about on different blogs. I feel like I'm back in college. People out there are really smart and creative and funny and wear most of the heart on their sleeves when they talk about their writing. I find that interesting. I mean really, truly I do. Because it's such a singular occupation.
I guess that's because they're so PASSIONATE about what they do, who they are, what they are trying to say. Eloquently or not. And I really shouldn't talk because I know I do the same thing.
I am completely filled with angst. I feel like a two-bit player in a B movie. You know, the one who used to be sort of famous but really isn't anymore and she's just hoping for one last big break to at least give her a shot at grabbing the spotlight one last time instead of doing commercials and making appearrances on game shows.
I think all this stems from seeing my cousins for the first time in two years. I've seen Dee a few times but not just one on one time. It was nice and familiar, I love my cousins dearly, and it brought back so many memories of us all together at other houses, other parties, other Christmases. It was so nice to sit and relax and talk. No alcohol involved.
It also brought back some very random thoughts about what would be so different now if I had been a contender back then.