Renewal, Reward and Reflection

We’re Getting There, I Think.

Happy Birthday to The Authentic Eclectic.

We opened for writers on the 13th October 2021. We now have 768 followers, and after a recent clearout on my part we currently boast 175 talented writers.

It’s been a slow, gradual and — dare I say it — absolutely authentic climb. No attempts at marketing on my part, beyond tweeting your stories and occasional writer spotlights, beyond writing consistently, organising our two competitions, and regular publishing of your work, and mine.

Along with careful curation of writers to ensure quality, and sincere and regular engagement, I think that together we have crafted something to be proud of.

Over the last thirty days, despite views and reads dropping throughout the site, readers have spent forty eight thousand, five hundred and eighty nine minutes of their time reading your work.

And five hundred and seventy one unique visitors drop by every day — on average.

Success Is In The Eye of The Beholder

I shouldn’t say the competition has been a success before it’s over. It seems to invite the fickle finger of fate and gives me the urge to spit through pinched thumb and forefinger, to ward off the evil eye — as a friend once showed me.

But perhaps touching wood will suffice in its stead. A term, which (along with dogging school and a string of pearls) has all sorts of grubby connotations these days that didn’t exist in decades previous.

Nevertheless, this competition very much feels like a success.

From lively and spirited discussion with my fellow judges — I hadn’t realised how much I have missed talking with other women writers about writing — to the sheer variety of work, and differing styles and points of view both political and personal, I feel rewarded already, and we haven’t even picked a winner yet.

This year has not been the best for me, health-wise. I’ve been up and down like a carousel pony and some of it — if not my fault — is certainly my doing.

But that’s not what this post is about. Let’s talk about that later, you and I, over a cup of peppermint and liquorice tea.

I will just mention in passing however that as physical and mental health are deeply interlinked, so when I’m poorly in body my attitude can be poorly too.

Because my health has been a little changeable, she understated wildly, I’ve struggled to maintain a positive approach at certain points. I’ve had to remind myself repeatedly that feelings aren’t facts, that this too shall pass.

And thus, just before we opened the second Authentic Eclectic Competition, I was second-guessing myself.

Why? Oh Why? I Whined to Myself

Why am I doing this? I thought, even as I posted the call to arms. I’m struggling to find the energy and time to even make soup. I’m tired, I’m grumpy. Why in the name of all that is holy am I adding things to my list of to-dos?

Opening yourself up to others is opening yourself up to criticism and the possiblity of failure. There’s always a moment, just after you open a publication, or a competition, or even just put a writing prompt out into the ether — when you wonder if anybody will turn up.

Or will you meet that most terrible and feared of fates — and be left all alone at your party?

And sometimes, being an editor for a publication is a little tiring in itself. For one thing, it means sometimes you have to say No.

And sometimes people don’t like that word.

In the last few months, several men have had a bit of a moan about not being accepted as a writer to the AE — thus instantly reassuring me (not that I needed the reassurance) that I had made the right decision.

One man went so far as to write what can only be described as an entitled rant in the comment section because the publication doesn’t accept poetry.

I get it, rejection is hard. That’s why I’m always so polite and careful when I say no. And it’s not always about the quality of the work, sometimes it’s truly about the genre, or that I just don’t feel we will be a good fit.

In the case of the entitled poet, however, it was absolutely clear cut. The publication Does. Not. Accept. Poetry.

Fin.

His rant made me very glad I had drawn that boundary. My reply was sharp. I doubt he learned a thing from it, but one can hope.

It was in the hope of avoiding such altercations that I wrote such extensive submission guidelines. The idea was that those who weren’t a good fit would self de-select and I wouldn’t (for example) have to refuse poetry of the sort that would give Paul Neil Milne Johnstone a run for their money.

Or be forced to say No thank you to smutty hacks, or elderly gents posting nude photographs of themselves under the guise of a filter.

Really.

I mean, it’s right there in the guidelines — I’m just not interested in anyone’s sticky-fingered fantasies.

No Is A Full Sentence

If you cannot accept the word No, you’ll never be a successful writer — even if you do manage to spew some crap on a Blackberry and talk a bunch of idiots into buying it.

If you cannot bear to have your work edited, if you feel everything you write is your firstborn child and not receiving praise and adoration for your work pierces your heart — you’re not long for the writing game. If you do not understand that not every competition or publication will open themselves to you and your genre, you’re in for a lot of disappointment.

But that’s not what I wanted to write about either.

Sorry, I can see your eyes glazing over a little, make yourself comfortable, we’re getting there.

We’re Getting There

It can be tricky, when you’re in your 5th decade and feeling a little sickly and self-pitying, to reach out and say to your fellow writers — hey, take my hand. Come and talk to me. Let me into your life a little, and I will let you into mine.

Let’s hang out, you and I. Let’s exchange ideas, and search one another’s faces, and sing songs to one another, and see if we can’t find some common ground. Let’s try to make one another angry, or happy, or sad. Let’s feel something together.

Let’s see if we can glimpse one another between the lines.

But one thing I’ve found, an obvious truism, is that putting a little effort in, doing something a little difficult, is often truly enriching and rewarding.

And that’s what I came here to say.

The competition ends tomorrow, October 16th, at midnight, American Eastern Standard time.

And before I’ve handed out any cash, or accolades, I must say — it has been a sterling success.

I am always astonished that a prompt can bring so many different thoughts, feelings, needs, wants and ruminations to the screen.

And I am delighted that you took the time to join us, to put yourself out there, to connect, to peek over the parapet and wave to those around you.

I have loved reading all your rants, and rant-adjacent articles.

And I love that you took the time to share your words with us.

And I love that doing something a little tricky, pushing myself a little, has reminded me of everything that I love about Medium.

We’re getting there, and the destination, it turns out, is forever on the horizon. Forever around the next turning. Forever moving forward.

So, until the next time —keep writing, stay safe and may I wish you all fair winds and a following sea.

We’re getting there, I think. I really think we are.