A long time ago I wrote a story, first entitled “The Last of the Wooly Mammoths.” In my opinion, the story was very lame. Iffy, at best. It was all about how a boy wanted a wooly mammoth, but in the country the king had outlawed all hunting of mammoths. And so, wouldn’t you know it, a random wooly mammoth just happens! to fall into his possession. He and the mammoth go off in search of some treasure that they just happened to hear tell of over dinner one night.
It pains me to say all this publicly, but I’ve been told that you’re supposed to “Write toward discomfort.” This certainly fits the bill, because not only am I revealing my writing online (Which sorta scares me in general), I’m revealing some writing that I’m not particularly fond of.
My writing history is full of iffy stories which I’d rather not have published. But the writer’s career is twofold. Sometimes I may get published for what I like, sometimes I may get published for what other people like. It depends on the market I guess.
I’d post a clip of The Last of the Wooly Mammoths, but it was written years ago and is probably stuck on a backup CD somewhere in my messy world. Yah. It’ll be a little bit till it gets up here.
For now, though, I will leave you with one thought: We write to please the writer. We publish to please the public. Well, I don’t know how true it is, but it’s something to think about at least. 🙂