“I try to stay away from my life story. Sometime, prompts force me to relive and focus on it. Maybe, it’s life trying to show me a way – who knows. Anyway, I end with a question – what would do?
I wrote this story in answer to the following prompts:
Pensitivity’s three things challenge – Tiny – Ages – Bounce
FOWC with Fandango — Spark
Your Daily Word — Pristine
Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Photo challenge — The picture above
Chairlift of Life
This snowy mountain chairlift is more than just a way to reach the summit of the ski slopes. It is the very image of life and success. We’ll begin with a pristine chair at the bottom. Children learning and discovering their life. As we bounce into teenage years we wait for that tiny spark. A tiny flicker of inspiration that creates our hopes and dreams. Puts us on our chosen path through the ages of life.
Those most fortunate rise to the summit. They claim their prize of success. They are the rich, the famous, the lucky ones in life.
Most will get halfway up and live a meaningful, somewhat successful life. They’ll never be wealthy but will have enough to live decently.
My journey on the chairlift of life was halted in the fog near the bottom. My spark of inspiration was snuffed out. Any aspiration I had for a successful future died with it. Everything a person considers normal in life I cannot achieve. A career, a love life, flying on a plane, even regular things like owning a car – try as I might I fail at them all. Only the most worthless of human beings can get to 35 years old without experiencing a kiss, without ever seeing a thousand pounds in their bank account. All while desperately trying to do well.
I did ascend on the chairlift of life for a while. My first spark was food. I trained as a chef; I work hard even earned awards for my dedication in the kitchen. The learning was the easy bit. Moving into the real world, my curse struck. No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t keep a job. Then I couldn’t even get a job in the end.
That got me thinking; maybe I couldn’t keep a job because I wasn’t supposed to have one. Our chairlift through life is set on a specific path, right? All the while I was cooking, I was also writing. I’d met a special young lady called Holly. Oh, she wasn’t real, she was a figment of my imagination but she was strong. I could feel her sitting beside or standing behind me when I told her mysteries. I’d see her smile and the glint in her icy-blue eyes when I was seeing inspiration for her latest story.
So, was this it? Was writing my way out of the fog. Had I finally found my ascendancy to the summit of success? No – I turned my chairlift onto a never-ending roundabout of failure. Through unscrupulous publishers, untrustworthy editors, savage beta readers, and my complete inability to do anything correctly, I became trapped.
My chairlift of life is hanging, broken in the fog. It can’t go down and backwards – nobody can turn back time and so what’s done is done. It cannot go up either as I failed to obtain the tools, the money, the abilities I need to push forward in life. This for me is purgatory. It is not a place after death. It is living a life with no forward momentum. No dreams, no goals, and no hope.
And yet the strangest thing keeps happening. Being a part of the writing community means I often find myself forced to tell my story. To explain how a person can write 28 books and still have precisely nothing. When that happens, my story is met with shock and awe. Some people get mad at me, tell me to stop being the victim. It’s easy for them. They are still in the ascendancy and can be successful where I can’t.
Other people grow upset at first and then determined to help. They offer edits, book covers, to teach me ways to publish my books. I’ve taken some up on those offers before. The only result is either total failure, a product that unsaleable, and even lost friendship.
Just recently my chairlift took me into a new situation where people wish to help me publish my books. One of them is even a really good editor. What should I do? Should I risk it again? Maybe lose more friends. Maybe lose more of myself along the way. Maybe this time, it could be my way out of the fog. Maybe this is a way to get my chairlift ascending once more. Or perhaps this could be the final derailment.
For now, I remain cloaked in the darkness of the impenetrable, terrifying, white fog. What will I do? I simply don’t know. What would you do?
Thanks for reading my friends.
Have a great day!