Writers are like wild blackberries: you never know what you’re going to get. A few may be sour, a sprinkling bitter, but most are downright delightful.
Like end-of-summer blackberries, writers seem to pop up everywhere. Good times or bad, they produce, not because they have to, or even because they want to, but because they cannot help themselves. Hot sun may beat down on them, difficult winds may toss them around, but just like blackberries, writers press on. It’s easier for those who can sprawl unencumbered in comfort. Then again, maybe it isn’t. The ones forced to cling onto a steep hillsides for dear life or slog through mud not only find a way to keep going, but they seem to come through with the sweetest offerings of all.
And like blackberries, some writers have only a handful of fruit to show for their efforts, while others proudly display an astonishingÂ crop. But regardless of the output, a berry bush is still a berry bush, just as a writer is still a writer.
Among blackberry vines, creepy spiders drop down to weave sticky webs and block off the juiciest berries. Such nerve! It’s the same with writers. Critics drop down and block the way with unsolicited advice and discouraging words. “I just want to help,” they insist. Yeah, sure.
Ahhh, but is anything quite so delicious as a juicy, sweet blackberry, still warm from the sun? Or is anything quite as satisfying as the beautifully crafted words of a writer who persists until she gets it right?
“A professional writer is an amateur who didn’t quit.”