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If any of us feel like there's little to no acceptance for whom we are and what we create at least there's solidarity in this community of writers

Today is July 1st, and it also happens to be the first Wednesday of the month. Most of you who read my blog know that this means it's Insecure Writer's Support Group day. Alex sent out an email saying that there's a t-shirt now. and it can be purchased HERE. Additionally, the actual IWSG list can be found HERE, and the July 1st co-hosts are:

1) Charity Bradford.
2) S.A. Larsen.
3) A.J.
4) Tamara Narayan.
5) Allison Gammons.
6) Tanya Miranda.

This last weekend, downtown Salt Lake City played host to the annual art show in its usual 100 degree heat. The art show is one of those places that (had I the room) I might be more excited about because (at least in my mind) I would pick out a painting that would go great in the house that I  have yet to buy.

A few years ago, I remember walking around the tents and looking at all the sculptures, paintings, and photographs that locals have for sale and thinking, "This looks great" and "That's interesting but not for me." However, things I liked my friend Meg possibly didn't like, and it occurred to me that this is a lot of what it means to be a writer. Really, at the end of the day, all we are is a person occupying some booth having concocted some story that we would like someone to appreciate, right? We are just an artist at a trade show of words.

The realization is this: it takes a thick skin to bear our insecurities. As each person comes in through the door and examines what we have and passes, while at another table, people start circling around something that you might think isn't all that special, it's no wonder our community abounds with insecurity, envy, and pride. If anything, the bag of emotions that we all happen to have starts running amok with this thought: "What does that piece of art have that mine doesn't?" It's a question with no one answer. You might as well ask, "What is the meaning of life?"

For me, life is about competition. We compete for friends, we compete for jobs, we compete for mates and partners, we compete for benefits, and we compete for resources to survive. Competition really only ends when we die. And like it or not, the things that we write or create are a reflection of ourselves. If any of us feel like there is little to no acceptance for whom we are and what we create at least there's solidarity in this community of writers.

And I suppose, today is as good a day as any to celebrate it, so celebrate it I shall.

Have a great Wednesday :).

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