I can write that title with full authority because of this picture:
It was great! It was fun! Greater yet, it was funny! Why? Because it came as a total surprise.
I never expected this piece to be Freshly Pressed because:
- I had thought a post should be published on the same day as it is Freshly Pressed. The said piece has been already published a week before the oddity happened. I had this passive belief that the big guys and gals were monitoring EACH post that gets published and if they found one they liked, it’s instantly stacked in their FP wall. What a twit! Who could possibly do that kind of job and still manage to actually breathe?
- I never thought people still like reading fiction in blogs.
Of the two, that last one actually is the more idiotic. How can people not read fiction? It offers us a means of escaping the mundane and struggles of reality. A breather to be exact.
Yet this very act of escape provides us a means of looking back at reality in a way that makes us realize what it is we truly have; a lie used as key to see the truth. This, I believe, is the true power of fiction.
And hell, I loved writing it. More than any other.
But I avoided doing so; at least, I avoided showing it to people. I began to believe real stories about real people is what blogging is about. So I avoided showing my art, what I love, because I wanted to belong. To be popular.
How awfully wrong I was.
The FP’d story I wrote is indeed fiction, but only because I dressed it as such. It is rather deeply rooted to the reality I know. And I wrote it with love. But the things that we love will always be fragile in our eyes. Since I cannot dare it being rejected by another editor (or if I’m honest, a first reader), I placed it somewhere I’m able to protect it, this blog.
I failed to see what was coming. Perhaps it has something to do with the cynical turns things in my life have been doing as of late. I didn’t want to believe the things I love could have the same effect on others, that they could also care.
Just when I was becoming a quite good cynic, Freshly Pressed-dom happened.
I did no marketing stuff, no Commenting-on-Other-Blogs-so-People-Could-Look-Me-Up stuff, no “Liking Spree” stuff, no sharing it on 13 other social media platforms stuff. After I cleaned up a spot for my story here, I shoved the idea of empathy, of the compelling force of love, to the Invisible Giant Recycle Bin of my life.
So they got angry. They rose from the grave of the Crumpled Rejects to knock some sense into my head, such as this:
There will always be others who have gone through similar experiences as you. There will always be others who will be able to relate.
And who am I to argue with zombie rejects?
We owe it to ourselves and to others to tell these stories–in whatever form they come. We should make it our duty to never let ourselves, and each other, feel alone.
I guess this hasn’t been much of an FP Formula at all. But I’ve never really prided myself with writing accurate titles, brahahaha…
Despite it not having “FP Guaranteed!” tattooed up its forehead, you might still find a pretty good use for this formula:
Show people what you are passionate about. Show people what you love.