So, I’ve been a member of the awesome Romance Divas family for two years now. I thought I’d write a little story about it.
Two years. Holy crap, Maya thought in astonishment. I haven’t even lived in Florida that long yet. Which was true. Barely, but it was true. Living in the same place (apartment, house, etc) for two years hardly ever happened. Hell, living in the same state that long was rare enough.
Well, whatever. Maya shrugged as she sat down at her computer. BICHOK (Butt in Chair, Hands on Keyboard) as her friends told her. Her fingers hovered over the keys but didn’t touch. How the hell was supposed to write up a short post about Romance Divas? That was…an impossibly task.
There were too many things to cover under that single heading. Romance Divas. Who would have thought a website could be the Room of Requirement for the writing world? She sure as heck hadn’t. When she first learned of it, she’d scoffed. Divas? Puh-lease. When Maya thought of the word Diva, she thought of snobs, people who thought they were better than everyone else, people who wanted the world handed to them on silver platter.
Amazingly, she’d been wrong, oh so wrong. Because the Divas at RD were anything but snobs. They were friendly, giving, supporting–not just an online writing community but a family. As for thinking they were better…nope. Not them, either. Maya titled her head to the side. Of course, RD is one-of-a-kind, so maybe that part was true, even if they didn’t think it.
Those women and men didn’t want a silver platter handed to them. Nope. Not that group of talented writers. Oh, they wanted the platter, all right, but they wanted to work for it. They’d rather take the tarnished one that would take months or even years to clean and wipe, wash and rinse, polish; repeat. And when they were done, their silver platter wasn’t silver. Nope. It would be gold.
Maya hadn’t managed that yet, but she was working hard at it. I will turn this into gold, she chanted to herself. She just had to keep writing. After all, you can’t fix a blank page. She smiled fondly at the quote. One of her favorite authors, Nora Roberts, had said it. Yet, she hadn’t known that until Divas. Coinkydink? She thought not.
It could take her another two years to turn her platter (aka manuscript) into silver or gold, but at least she had the Divas for support, for knowledge, for fun. And with any luck, she’d have them for the next two.
“Here’s to you, Divas,” she said, holding up an imaginary flute of champagne. “May you continue to grow and nurture as you continue to grow and nurture future writers, seasoned pros and everyone in between. You are our support system and even if you don’t realize it, we’re yours.”
