When hope and frustration collide…

…or, how struggling writers talk to each other on the phone about the state of things and how to survive change:

Do you see them all jumping ship for other genres? Do you?! Those names we dream of being like, those above us we strive to equal…

Just means we don’t have to compete up, only sideways and downward—better chances to get our foot in the door.

But the genre door is shutting.  Those with their feet in will get bruised but still be able to push through for cookies and coffee, while we’re out here on the stoop worrying about wiping the mud off our feet.

Yes, but it’s a screen door.  Even though it closes with a bang on a regular basis as people run in and out of it, it has no lock. 

There are a lot of us on the stoop…

True, but some will get sick of waiting and slip in the back door, while others will use the garage entry.  The owners pay more attention to those who are polite enough to ring the doorbell.  Now wipe your feet and get up here.

Did you see who snuck in the window over there? You can hear them, laughing and having fun inside, but they didn’t come in the front, so why do they get the attention?

Oh come on, you know this party game.  Everyone smiles and nods but they don’t really know who it is, they just figure they should so they pretend they do… or worse, they wait until he wanders off to another circle and then point and laugh at the trail of mud he leaves behind him because he didn’t use the mat.

Did I get all the mud off? Were we supposed to bring a dish to pass?

Yes you did, and no, we weren’t.  We are only expected to bring a recipe for now.  Once we’re inside and we understand who likes what and who’s allergic to what, then we’ll make a dish. 

Ok then, let’s ring the doorbell already!!

Thoughts? Tell me what you think...

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