Summary

The website content details the author's struggle with gaining recognition as a writer, despite their efforts to share their work with a broader audience.

Abstract

The author, who has a distinctive style with preternaturally-pink hair and psychedelic attire, expresses their frustration over the lack of readership and recognition for their writing. Despite posting a hundred pieces online and reaching out to family and friends, the response has been underwhelming. The author's aspiration is to achieve recognition not for fame or fortune, but for the value of their work. They seek to be acknowledged as a writer worth reading and are even willing to offer their work for free. The author draws inspiration from a friend, Virginia, who found success as a columnist at the age of 86, and they hold onto the hope of posthumous glory. In a bid for recognition, the author has contacted local newspapers, including the Melrose Free Press, The Melrose Weekly, and the Malden Observer, with no response. The author's letter of solicitation to Mr. Tenorio, seeking an opportunity to contribute to the print version of the newspapers, also went unanswered, leaving them to continue writing and occasionally begging for an audience.

Opinions

The author feels unrecognized and undervalued as a writer, despite their unique personal style and dedication to their craft.
They believe their work is amusing and relatable, capable of eliciting laughter and resonating with readers.
The author is skeptical about the sincerity of the responses from family and friends, viewing them as non-committal and polite without genuine engagement.
They are willing to forego monetary gain for the sake of their writing being read and appreciated.
The author is determined to keep writing, seeking solace in the possibility of posthumous fame, which they value more than temporary recognition.
The lack of response from local newspapers is disheartening, but the author remains hopeful, inspired by the success of their friend Virginia.
The author's letter to Mr. Tenorio reflects a humble and earnest

Home Sweet Home at Last

Erstwhile laments recalled

Delighted to be here!

I found my thrill in Virtual-ville — thanks to the attention of my loyal readers. Before I took up residence here, I flailed in frustration over my failure to find readership amongst even family and friends. The upside of which was fodder for my muse — whose bemusement (as to the dismissal of her wondrous works) I relate below for your sympathy — and, I hope, for your amusement.

rec·og·ni·tion dictionary.com

(a.) the state of being recognized.

(b.) the acknowledgment of achievement, service, merit, etc.

(c.) the expression of (b.) in the form of some token of appreciation

I can’t get no recognition

I take that back. Indeed, I get plenty of “recognition” (*a.) in this town. That is I am repeatedly recognized by fellow residents who hail me with a hearty I KNOW YOU!

Followed by assorted snippets from the following:

YOU. With the preternaturally-pink hair and psychedelic get-ups walking with your nose in a book all the time — my God, aren’t you afraid you’ll trip? — better you should read during your so-called “run” when you’re barely moving your feet anyway — my God, you look ten days past due to take up residency in the cemetery that you limp through, panting so pathetically — my God, why don’t you give it up already? —then take a stroll downtown to the nearest salon and tell them how about taking down the scare-hair ten tones or so — and while you’re so conveniently close to the shops, get yourself a dignified wardrobe — my God, you look ridiculous at your age — at any age for that matter — clashing vintage acid-green on electric blue on psychedelic purple.

So yeah, I get plenty of recognition in one sense (*a.). What I can’t get is Recognition (*b.) much less RECOGNITION (*c).

I want Recognition as a writer. That is, a writer worth the reading. I want the pieces I write to be read. Please. Money is no object. Meaning, I’m not above bribery.

Seriously, money is not my objective. I don’t aspire to the Best-Seller List. Or even to the two-for-five bargain bin. I’ll guarantee 100-percent off the virtual list price to any interested reader. Any takers?

Thus far, alas, no. I posted about a hundred of my pieces online and invited family and friends to come-on-down-The-Price-Is-Right! As expected, I got a few non-committed onetime hit-and-runners, a couple of non-committal non-responses, and several sincerely polite compliments on what they skimmed-for-now-will-definitely-read-when-they-get-around-to-it.

Given the underwhelming response to my efforts of self-promotion, I’m thinking that the best way to accomplish Recognition is by invoking the powers of Capital-cousin RECOGNITION — which would entail, say, occasional publication as a featured contributor to the town weekly. Out of many thousands, a couple of dozen people are bound to read my column.

Which is a dozen-and-twelve more readers than I have now.

Sounds like a plan? Sounds like a plan-IN-MY-DREAMS! I contacted the Melrose Free Press, The Melrose Weekly, and the Malden Observer asking for permission to submit and to whom. No response.

My friends encouraged me to GO BOLD. I emailed the most-likely-to-be-appropriate contacts and appended four amusingly-relatable-and-utterly-inoffensive pieces.

No response. I’ll never know if they ignored my work too, or just me.

It’s hard not to lose hope. I sustain a shred by reminding myself that my writer friend Virginia didn’t get her career as a columnist going until seven years ago, when she was 86. She has a huge following — fan mail, public gushing, the works. So, if I can manage to hold on for another 25 years, I too may have a shot at fame.

I console myself meanwhile with the delusion of posthumous glory. If I had to choose between temporal celebrity and eternal regard, I’d take the latter over fifteen minutes — even fifty years — of fame. Even though I wouldn’t be around to enjoy it, I’d take comfort in the certainty of my “life-after-death.”

For now — and for later — I’ll just keep on writing. And, intermittently, begging.

My unacknowledged letter of solicitation

Mr. Tenorio:

I was told to contact you regarding submissions to the print version of the Melrose Free Press and the Malden Observer.

Any spare room for a guest contributor? I’m an aspiring wit (half-way there) seeking the opportunity to amuse as many people as possible.

I have no pretensions of fame and fortune (thus am I spared much disappointment).

I write for my pleasure and for that of my readers. I aim to elicit knowing nods and aahs amidst the peals of laughter or inaudible chuckles.

It’s been working for me so far within the confines of my self-dubbed “Writers’ Block Party,” which convenes weekly at the Malden Senior Center. My fellow workshoppers have urged — or, at least, politely encouraged — me to share the dubious fruits of my imagination with a wider, unwitting audience.

Anybody there willing to lend me an ear, preferably both? Perhaps an eye or two?

Anything?

Thank you for your indulgence.

I’ve attached (text also appended below) four of my takes on universal tendencies toward clutter in particular, as well as procrastination and imperfection in general. Plenty more where these came from. [for him; I spared you extra reading]

Cheers.