Photo by Florine Duffield
Out of the Mute Box
When I was living my glory days at Torrance Beach, California, I ruffled some feathers. Yes, that would be me. I ruffled some feathers. These were pretty big feathers and I was just getting ready to take my writing show professional. I was suddenly blacklisted in Hollywood. I could not find any work. I had a feeling it was due to my ruffling of those feathers.
I finally learned that to be true. Once I knew it to be true, I went directly to the source and informed that it needed to stop or I would seek legal action if I lost one more job opportunity. I had already put an end to my ruffling. But suddenly I felt I was left without a voice or an opinion, just reporting skills. I had to keep my mouth shut and just write.
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My dear Aunt Helene referred to my situation as “Being in the mute box.” I hated it. It was so unlike any way I had been before. But I did it and I honed my skill well. And the last time I checked, ruffling was not illegal. But sometimes power can stop one from ruffling.
Through my time in the mute box, I learned a lot about writing and when and how to say things. Sometimes, you will say about me, “She is right on,” or you might say, “She is an idiot,” either way, I promise you to be real and not lie and I will not use profanity, but boys from around the globe, I am out of the mute box. Just like the six-day stay in the incubator to make me strong when I was born, all that learning has been baking in around me and it has simmered to the top. Watch out.
