HOPE

I've just sent off an article that took me way too long to write and was also probably way too long (2,800 words wishfully destined for a magazine), so before I get the rejection letter or the extended silence that descends like the death of all hope and means Rejection with a cruel capital R, I thought I'd write a quick positive blog to mark the occasion of hope, however fleeting.

Corny, but let's hope true

I hope you don't mind the audacity of my shameless indulgence in what is most likely hope of the false and flashy kind that fools are said to suffer. So be it. It's all I've got.

I have read enough writing blogs to know that a thick skin is even more valuable to a wannabe writer than a fast and fluid pen, so I realise how dangerous it is to hope - as hope thins the skin of the hopeless wannabe more surely than acid - but the rub is that you wouldn't venture out otherwise. The odds in my case are probably slightly better than Lotto, and as I don't take that, I feel entitled to HOPE, just a little, and ever so briefly here.

I'm taking a dance class tonight, you know, teaching a class for those who think they can't dance but can, sort of, and after all the writing I've done on that bloody article I'm not feeling quite as crash hot physically as I like to to teach a dance class and give hope to those who need it in that department. So I might have to borrow a bit of hope from this department to give to that, which is another reason to HOPE here. It all makes perfect sense.

I hope you're having a hope-filled day, or afternoon, or morning, or minute -

Seriously, hopeful-for-now,
Sacha