I'm a writer. I have the business cards to prove it and everything.
Which means I'm about as popular at work as an Amway or Avon salesman!
Once a well-meaning soul asked, "What are you writing about?"
I know my eyes must have lit up like a sadist at a masochist convention.
"Oh! It's about a street kid in haunted New Orleans right before Hurricane Katrina!"
Her eyes glazed over. Her face took on a "Call 911! Call 911!" expression. She even backed up.
It reminded me of an important lesson. Not taught ... because haven't you noticed that you only need to be reminded of most facts of life?
Long ago, I learned that 99% of the people I meet will not care about my $2000 blog contest or my latest book.
No. They want to know if anybody in this stressed-out world gives a damn about them.
You see, most people are having a harder time than it appears. And for the most part, their wounds are invisible - and more painful because of that fact.
So I keep quiet about me and ask about what is drawing blood in my co-workers' lives. And in today's world something is always wounding those around you.
No sympathy for my dreams. But like I've said - those around me (and you) have larger wounds needing tending to than my quixotic quests for publication.
So those of you reading this -- don't worry.
Yes, I am a writer, but you will read no hype about my books.
My trailers at the top of this blog will give you an idea if you're curious. Wendy Tyler Ryan crafted them into works of art. Tyler and Ryan are the names of her two sons.
What's her last name? I don't know.
My code is that of the Old West. I don't pry. Need someone to listen, to give a damn? I'm your man.
You want privacy? I'm still your man. I will give your invisible wounds breathing room.
What did Wyatt Earp say? "Never crowd a fellow unless you got a first class reason."
So what's the point of this little post?
That life is easier for those around us when we take time to listen -- really listen -- not crouch impatiently for a pause in the breath of the speaker to leap in with something important ... something about US.
But you see,
we all have our dreams. Mine's being a self-supporting writer. You have yours. Your neighbors and co-workers have theirs.
we all have invisible wounds and silent sorrows.
If we are tolerant of the dreams of others and healing in our words and actions to their wounds --
then the pursuit of our dreams will not be a lonely one nor will it be in vain --
even if the end of the rainbow forever eludes us.
We will have journeyed towards it with friends.
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