We’ll chalk this up to one weird Wednesday afternoon.
I actually found myself engaged in a couple of online discussions with a couple of millennials who are just absolutely certain they walked off their respective campuses with a piece of paper in their hands that certified them as “The All-Knowing, Know-It-Alls Of The Universe.” and have set out to crush any opposition to their claim.
See, here’s the problem with that: They aren’t. Odds are, they never will be either.
In both cases, these two gents decided that their less than a decade of writing has graduated them to Expert Level Status: Grand Master. What they have failed to realize is they are just starting to learn their craft. Trust me, I know.
Because, if you were born in 1984 or after – as these two were – I was already earning my living as a writer. Let that sink in. If you are 33 years old or younger then I have been a professional writer longer than you’ve been alive. There is nothing connected to the field of writing, of any kind or in any setting, that I have not already seen, done and succeeded at.
Or to sum up: I know my shit.
I’ve written for newspapers, magazines, online publications and blogs. I’ve covered hard news, politics, business, features, editorials and sports. I have three awards for my journalism career – including a prestigious Best Story Award by the CNPA, a statewide organization that every newspaper in California is a part of and was judged by the top editors in the state. I have also done photo-journalism and worked the pagination desk (got an award there too).
When my physical health dictated my newspaper days were done, I moved on to fiction writing. Five novels, two non-fiction books, two
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(Available at https://fineartamerica.com/featured/1-the-gift-of-life-diamante-lavendar.html) When life gets tough, it’s not so easy to see it as a gift. When we are hurt or bad things happen,