I Am A Writer

OK, albeit not a published one.

But I'm a writer.

Can millions of believers in The Secret be wrong?

So what the hell? I'll just go out on a limb (hey no one actually reads this blog anyway so in fact it's not all that risky)

I'm a writer. I'm a published, successful, happy, fulfilled, financially-abundant writer.

There, I said it. Typed it, at least.

So Universe, I'm ready now.

You can go ahead now and summon the Agents.

And bring on the Publishers.

And let us not forget about the zillions of Loyal Readers of my blog and soon-to-be published stories.

Or wait, I think I'm supposed to say it as though it has already been published, right? (Shit, if that's the case then I better start writing)

Yes, that's right, I remember now. It's all about using the present tense. To think, speak, act as though whatever I desire is happening right this instant.

Let's try this again.

Thank you, Oh Wonderful Universe, for the millions of dollars I'm making as a writer.

Right now.

Thanks for the loyal following of so many readers, the countless lives I've impacted with my prose, for helping me to make this world a little bit brighter.

And with all this financial abundance, I'm buying my dream farmhouse up in the mountains right this very second. As I'm signing the contract, simultaneously I'm also signing autographs at the local Barnes & Noble for my latest brilliant book of short stories. I've already closed on my summer home in Greece and currently spend three months each year on Santorini except of course when I'm on location elsewhere for the film I've written, directed and produced.

Wow, I really love you, Sweet Universe. You are very kind and generous. I think I've really gotten the hang of this whole Secret thing.

And I'm really, really psyched to be booked on the Oprah show.

So thanks, Universe.

I won't let you down.

The small print: The thoughts expressed in this piece are strictly those of the author and have not been endorsed by The Universe.