Thats the way I became a writer. I got myself a vest in the form of a diary, to which I trusted my intimate sufferings from non-reciprocity, but after the first rhyme that came to mind, I changed my shoes into a poet. Soon I discovered plenty of websites where one could post ones masterpieces. As a result, after painful swings between pros and cons, because at that time I wasnt sure yet of the excellence of my works, I nevertheless registered, uploaded a picture of some handsome man and my first verse, the Unrecognized Genius, or The Rejected.
Incredibly, I was instantly hit by a flurry of positive responses, including declarations of love from women of all ages, suits and calibers!
They began to invite me to events at literary associations and circles, to performances in museums, libraries, schools and even kindergartens, which at first I was naturally embarrassed, because the picture of a nameless handsome man, posted by me on the Internet, was radically different from my reflection in the mirror.
However, Pushkin, you know, was outwardly also for an amateur
So, I got onto stage! I was applauded by the arenas! Women asked for an autographed book, composed and sang songs based on my poems, snuggled up to me in collective photos and hinted in every possible way that they wouldnt mind getting to know me better. Anyway, there were no men in literary units, with the exception of a few pensioners and chronic alcoholics, against the background of which I looked like a fairy-tale prince. And yes, I enjoyed it! That was something quite different from being home, among relatives, or in the office at work
Soon, a retired lady in love with me gave me a recommendation to join the Union of Writers of the City, I printed two books of the chosen lyrics, submitted them with the recommendation, to the admission committee, and was accepted! Wow! Accepted! They said that my lyrics shocked them to the core, especially the poem Unrecognized Genius.
However, the second old woman in love with me was jealous of the first one and invited me to join the City Union of Writers. You may ask, whats the difference between the Union of Writers of the City and the City Union of Writers? I still dont understand that myself, but the old lady said that the City Union of Writers was quoted higher. So I deserved the best!
Within five years, I was accepted into all the existing literary associations and Writers Unions, whose headquarters were located in our city and on its outskirts, each of which considered itself much cooler than all the others put together.
I dutifully paid my annual dues. And more and more often, I received letters with nominations for numerous competitions, in which I always won! Traditionally, each selection of my poems for any competition began with the Unrecognized Genius, already a 100% verified masterpiece, my calling card in contemporary poetry. And rather, in literature in general, what is there to hide, since my Unrecognized Genius was awarded not only the Alexander Pushkin Prize, but also won the Leo Tolstoy, Nikolai Gogol and Anton Pavlovich Chekhov competitions! Of course, I suggested the organizers of the competitions taking into consideration for prose writers awards my diary prose instead of poetry, but I was immediately assured that my poetry was so large-scale and profound that the greatest prose masters of the world would have been happy to give me all their orders and medals decorations!
And after these words, I finally discarded the last doubts in myself!
After five years of rotation in literary circles, there was no free space left on my jacket! It glistened with gold, pleasantly rang with glory and, like a magnet, attracted almost every literary woman without exception. And once I wore this jacket to an office party. And wow, yes! It was my minute of glory!
Only stupid Maya laughed at me! She considered my poems worthless in meaning and ugly in rhymes! She said that Tolstoy, Gogol and Chekhov, together with Pushkin and others like them, had long dreamed of meeting me in the Other World in order to send me to Hell for a frying pan, because all my awards were given not for the quality of works and not for me alone, but for money to everyone.
I tried to explain to my sister that we live in a commercial society, the writers unions had not been funded by the state for a long time, so they were forced to encourage authors at the expense of the very same authors. Victories in national competitions and government awards were given only to their own, and, for sure, they cost much more. However, Maya wasnt lazy to calculated how much money I had spent on my literary activities in five years, and assured me that a cottage by the sea in Europe was much cheaper!
Oh, Europe Okay, Maya was right: it was time to conquer Europe, and then Asia, and the whole world! And unbelievable! I found out the Union of European Writers, and then the Union of Writers of Asia, the Union of Writers of Eurasia, and later the Union of Writers of North and South America, Canada, Mexico, Brazil, Peru, Easter Island and the Fiji Islands, Papua and New Guinea, Antarctica and Arctic