Firstly, congratulations on your selection to the anthology! It's a lovely poem and I appreciate you sharing it here.
And I totally get what you mean about publication not equaling connection. I had a short story chosen for an anthology years ago, and it was my first one and I was really excited about it. But it didn't really resonate until someone told me they had read and enjoyed the story.
I think as writers, we pour so much emotion into our work. We feel what our characters feel. Ultimately, though, they're characters, they're fiction (despite how real they feel to us!). When someone reaches out to say they connected with our writing, it means they felt those things too, and we can bond over that mutual emotional experience. It's not about our desire to move people, it's about us and our readers being moved together.
Thank you, Joshua. And thank you for summing up the feeling I've found difficult to keep within my sights at time. I've often said I write for myself. And that's true, but it truly is as you say - it's about us, writers, and readers being moved together.
This really resonates with me and many others. I have little confidence in my writing abilities, and every like, follow, subscription lets the author know something. But comments really let you know with words. Wonderful! Wonderful! said some orchestra leader in the past. (Lawrence Welk) And Congratulations on your honorable mention from writers of the future, and your published poem.
Congrats, JL! What an exciting experience! I remember my first published news story with zero feedback because it was actually in print, and I also remember the first time I ever received feedback from a reader when she emailed the news director to pass a note on to me. I was so happy to know my words had evoked a feeling in a reader! Writing online often feels like sending our words to a void, and so I appreciate building our connected communities on Substack, however big or small they are. As Josh said, there is connection with the writing. There is also connection with the process of writing, and that’s quite a special, shared experience and bond. Such a gift!
I don’t call myself a writer either. I simply put down what the veld has taught me, things I’ve seen, things that scratched me on the way past and the odd lesson that came wrapped in dust and silence. Why I think that it's even necessary to put it in writing and not just keeping it to myself...? Well that's still a mystery to me, but If someone out there reads it and takes something useful from it, that’s a gift.
But if I’m honest, I do hope it finds applause now and then. ( I mean, even baboons like the occasional grooming) or at least a nod of recognition from someone sitting alone with their coffee. Because we all cast lines into the water, hoping for a bite. A ripple. A sign that we’re not just talking to the wind and the mere act of casting a line, is therapy...
I’ve long stopped trying to fish in dry dams. I’d rather spend time near water that smells of life. And Substack ... well, it feels like a pond that still holds fish. The trick, as always, is finding the right bait. That part… I’m still figuring out. Maybe biltong for the soul? Or stories that don’t flinch?. I suppose that's why engagement and response from readers is important, not just readers who read and move on...
I’ll ponder that tonight next to the embers, because yes, I still believe in fires. Not just for heat, but for company and every now and then, a story dances just right in the smoke.
Stay close to your embers, keep casting. I see your ripples.
Rinkhals
(Still fishing. Still hoping. Still thankful when someone bites.)
Johan, this is what I'm talking about ... connection. And fires ... sharing something that burns within us. Your beautiful words and way of story resonate with me deeply. I hope you spend every night with fire and reflection. Embers to the universe ... thank you.
Firstly, congratulations on your selection to the anthology! It's a lovely poem and I appreciate you sharing it here.
And I totally get what you mean about publication not equaling connection. I had a short story chosen for an anthology years ago, and it was my first one and I was really excited about it. But it didn't really resonate until someone told me they had read and enjoyed the story.
I think as writers, we pour so much emotion into our work. We feel what our characters feel. Ultimately, though, they're characters, they're fiction (despite how real they feel to us!). When someone reaches out to say they connected with our writing, it means they felt those things too, and we can bond over that mutual emotional experience. It's not about our desire to move people, it's about us and our readers being moved together.
Thank you, Joshua. And thank you for summing up the feeling I've found difficult to keep within my sights at time. I've often said I write for myself. And that's true, but it truly is as you say - it's about us, writers, and readers being moved together.
This really resonates with me and many others. I have little confidence in my writing abilities, and every like, follow, subscription lets the author know something. But comments really let you know with words. Wonderful! Wonderful! said some orchestra leader in the past. (Lawrence Welk) And Congratulations on your honorable mention from writers of the future, and your published poem.
Congrats, JL! What an exciting experience! I remember my first published news story with zero feedback because it was actually in print, and I also remember the first time I ever received feedback from a reader when she emailed the news director to pass a note on to me. I was so happy to know my words had evoked a feeling in a reader! Writing online often feels like sending our words to a void, and so I appreciate building our connected communities on Substack, however big or small they are. As Josh said, there is connection with the writing. There is also connection with the process of writing, and that’s quite a special, shared experience and bond. Such a gift!
Thank you, Charlene. You are right... not only about connection, but community. You and Substack have been reaffirming in that regard. Truly.
This resonates, deeply.
I don’t call myself a writer either. I simply put down what the veld has taught me, things I’ve seen, things that scratched me on the way past and the odd lesson that came wrapped in dust and silence. Why I think that it's even necessary to put it in writing and not just keeping it to myself...? Well that's still a mystery to me, but If someone out there reads it and takes something useful from it, that’s a gift.
But if I’m honest, I do hope it finds applause now and then. ( I mean, even baboons like the occasional grooming) or at least a nod of recognition from someone sitting alone with their coffee. Because we all cast lines into the water, hoping for a bite. A ripple. A sign that we’re not just talking to the wind and the mere act of casting a line, is therapy...
I’ve long stopped trying to fish in dry dams. I’d rather spend time near water that smells of life. And Substack ... well, it feels like a pond that still holds fish. The trick, as always, is finding the right bait. That part… I’m still figuring out. Maybe biltong for the soul? Or stories that don’t flinch?. I suppose that's why engagement and response from readers is important, not just readers who read and move on...
I’ll ponder that tonight next to the embers, because yes, I still believe in fires. Not just for heat, but for company and every now and then, a story dances just right in the smoke.
Stay close to your embers, keep casting. I see your ripples.
Rinkhals
(Still fishing. Still hoping. Still thankful when someone bites.)
Johan, this is what I'm talking about ... connection. And fires ... sharing something that burns within us. Your beautiful words and way of story resonate with me deeply. I hope you spend every night with fire and reflection. Embers to the universe ... thank you.
You have been heard.
Charlotte, thank you. Now that I've been heard, should I be quiet? LOL
Get louder.