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| Anthony Hathaway|Dreamstime.com |
Tout is sweet, mais
c’est mute, my tweet.
Been quiet
all week
I’ve nothing
to speak!
Some birds
announce their presence in the field with piercing, joyous cries of victory
that rip through the sky and send their prey scurrying for cover. We stop and
listen, enthralled. Other birds hide in trees and chirp a limited repertoire; a
few notes, insistent, incessant and interminable as a car alarm or a
one-radio-station small town. Annoyed, we tune them out. Then there are those
that go out on a limb to deliver refreshing song on a gentle breeze. We tune
our breath to their song.
I’m a new
bird on the block trying to find my voice. I don’t aspire to rip the sky with
awesome proclamation. I don’t want to annoy my friends. I just want to chirp a
little 140 character ditty that refreshes, amuses, or inspires. Okay, truth. I
also want to garner the interest of an agent, a publisher and an audience for
my novel.
I’ve never
suffered from writers block, but I’m developing a bad case of Twitter block
(see my stats). More truth. I’m a choral
singer, happy to weave my song into the larger work. Ask me to open my beak and emit a solo tweet
and it’s not pretty.
I don’t
think I need a social media seminar. I think I need voice lessons.
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