Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Enter the Green-Eyed Monster, Insecure Writer's Group Post
Because writers might on occasion grapple with insecurities, Alex J. Cavanaugh founded an Insecure Writer’s Support Group for bloggers. We’re posting monthly, exposing our insecurities and/or offering support. Please check out his link to visit others’ posts. It’s a huge group of exceptional writers and authors. This is our second monthly meeting.
Yawn. Here we are again -- my insecurities and I, sitting in a stupid circle, anxiously subdued, ho-humming as if we’re marginally confident. This quiet tone surpasses last month’s boisterous neurotic thing. Thank goodness Alex permitted our return. He’s a good one, that Alex...Yep, I’ll be fine. It’s only a 50-minute session, and –why look—4 seconds have passed already. *Whistle, yawn, arm stretch.*
Slam! The room is shaken as a green-eyed monster bursts in.
Stomp! Stomp! He trudges across the floor and plops down on a seat right next to me.
“Hey. Who invited you here?”
“You never invite me, darlin’, but I’m always with you.” He gives me a wink and flirtatious elbow nudge.
“Damnit. I thought I got rid of you for good.”
“Yeah, right, you mean last week during that Jewish ritual when you cast away your sins for, uh, what holiday? Rush hush hush or somethin’?"
“It’s Rosh Hashanah, you dumb as—“
“Okay,” Alex chimes in with calm and looks at the monster. “Please introduce yourself to the group.”
“Sure. I’m Envy and I’m related to all of you insecurities.” He stands up to offer high-fives to Fluke Insecurity and “I Don’t Know What the Hell I’m Doing” Insecurity. “I follow Robyn around. She hates me but doesn’t let me go. It’s one of those sick and twisted addictive relationships like Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton, Sylvester and Tweety Bird, Justin and Selena—."
“Stop! Enough already! I admit it.” Robyn tearfully addresses the group. “I can’t get rid of him. I pick up best-sellers and call them ‘trash’ because I’m jealous. I see posts about bloggers’ publications and this jerk takes over, obnoxiously singing ‘Neener neener, it’s not you. Boo hoo hoo. Too bad, so sad.’
“Course were I more secure, he wouldn’t taunt me like this. You know? And I’d give all authors a chance. And what goes around comes around. I mean, I want them to be happy for my successes. I should be more gracious. I’ve had it with this ugly guy (pointing at monster).”
“Hey, you ain’t a prize yourself, lady. And, uh, how long have you been single for? What’s it been, like eight years of celibacy?”
“That does it!”
Robyn yanks him out of his seat and drop-kicks the green-eyed monster across the room. Bruised and embarrassed, he stumbles towards the door with threats of returning.
Alex cheerfully announces the end of the session and directs the group to the lobby for brownies and punch.