I live on the edge of town, five more miles out from here and you would be in a place where post office boxes are necessary to receive mail and cows outnumber people about ten to one. It’s pretty quiet, and other than a roaring milk truck, traffic is sparse. That’s why what I’m about to tell you is so remarkable.
The other day I set out to walk my lazy Labrador. It forced me to leave my placid dead end and traverse a long stretch of back country road where cars generally zip along at fifty to sixty miles per hour because the landscape generally looks the same in a blur as it does at a resting glance. So there we were, my faithful pooch and I strolling along when we came across this.
And I thought, as you are probably thinking, well, who the hell would want that heap of junk? Why would someone even bother to offer it up to the world? We walked on, baffled.
Then, a mere twenty minutes later, back from our loop around the block, a car was stopped at the pile of stuff and a woman in denim shorts and bright purple sneakers was lifting an item from that same garbage heap. She smiled at me as she hopped back into the driver’s seat as if it were my tough luck that she saw it first.
Suddenly this pile of junk got me thinking about my writing.
If someone liked that pile of garbage enough to stop, get out, lift it, and bring it home, then surely there is someone who would like my writing. And this stuff wasn’t even reaching a vast and wide audience. It wasn’t like this garbage was on the endcap at Target. This was a far out country road, in a far out small town, in the far out edge of nowhere. What are the chances someone found it, let alone found it and liked it? So could there be someone out there who likes my stuff?
May you find hope on your creative journey. Don’t pay attention to all the cars that speed past you. Focus on finding the driver that slows down and decides that what you have to offer is a treasure.