Every famous/great writer was an “average Joe(sephine)” before someone pulled strings for them or they got incredibly lucky. Imagine all the great writing that never gets read because it wasn’t chosen by the gatekeepers. Or promoted. Or the writer decided the necessary hoops were too high or the soul-crushing not worth it.

I found a (small) audience on Medium, despite all its trumpeted faults and not writing the content they prefer. I know I will never become famous (thank God!) or rich writing here, but a small interactive audience is good enough for me, at the moment. My readers are like friends. I don’t need thousands of them, just a few good ones. Not that I would be mad if I suddenly had 10,000 actual readers happily throwing money at me.

I can honestly say I wouldn’t be writing if not for Medium. Pageviews do nothing for me. Facebook is a joke now (it was fun back in 2008.) I never liked Tweeter. Writing boring stuff for money has no appeal. I don’t journal. I don’t “have to” write. I do it for the enjoyment and satisfaction of doing it. And that comes, for me, only because people read it and respond.

My doggerel is happy here, where a few weirdos of questionable tastes appreciate it (said with love.)

Long live the dogs of doggerel writing. And those occasional flashes of brilliance.