“Ever tried and failed? No matter. Try again and fail better.”
Of course, Mom wants me to say I try and fail all the time. But that’s not true. I don’t really try at all. I’m usually phoning it in. So when I fail, that’s the reason.
And when I fail better, it’s random luck.
Mom on the other hand tries. Lately, she’s been working on old and new stories and submitting them to Rate Your Story
and to her critique group named LindaVijiJenConnieandOtherJen. When they write to her about her work, they always say what’s not clear, what to cut, what to tighten, what to add, and what to change. Then Mom is able to fail better. But only until she succeeds.
Meanwhile she has small successes along the way like seeing her new stories get more focused on their themes. And she gets to see her old stories go off in new directions.
My progress goes in many different directions. I’ve recently changed my street nap technique when the street burned my butt. #fail
I moved to the sidewalk. Mom said, “This isn’t much better.” and “Still embarrassing.” and “Why can’t you be normal?”
When she takes me out to eat, I’ve stopped hiding under her chair, tripping the waitress, and sitting in the water bowl. #fail
Now I just beg for food because sharing is caring. And Mom shares!
At the park, I still hide under the bench, but sometimes, I come partway out to catch some sunshine and say hi to some park people.
Mom said, “What are you afraid of?” and “Want to play?” and “I feel like I’m being watched.”