I cracked my kids up once claiming to be "hip to the streets."  I'm not, and pretty much everyone knows that.  But I realized just how unhip I was when I tried to watch the Grammys and kept switching back to the Pro Bowl, a music station, and the blank spot on the wall above me.

The one relevant bit of Grammy I caught was the emcee, maybe--didn't watch enough to know who he was--pay one of those left-handed compliments to Susan Boyle.  He touted the impact she'd had, but alluded still to the fact that she's not "sexy."  I'm delighted she got some tribute at the rather strange function that is the Grammys, but sorry, that as always--it's more about looks than anything else.

Susan Boyle's voice wowed me.  "Memories," from Cats is a beautiful song, and she sang the daylights out of it.  But when I first heard about her, what stayed with me was the contempt on the judges' faces, becoming stunned amazement that a woman who didn't look like Carrie Underwood or Kelly Clarkson could blow an audience away. 

There's nothing wrong with incredible beauty, especially when it's backed up with talent and intelligence.  But Susan Boyle's dream was to sing for a wider audience than her church mates, and only her perseverance and belief in herself let that dream happen; the world of those who judge on appearance over substance stymied her for much of her life. 

While Susan spent a lifetime singing in comparative silence, a young woman-a girl, actually--was exploding into the music mainstream.  Taylor Swift is strikingly beautiful, by most standards--and she backs her looks up with talent and brains.  It's ironic that she should have accomplished in a few short years what Susan probably considered--perhaps still considers--beyond her reach.

Taylor manufactured much of her success, made her dreams come true, by hitting the internet, and relating to experiences we all have, like crushes on our respective "Tim McGraws." 

Taylor and Susan both pursued dreams actively, achieved them, and must know a special kind of fulfillment from accomplishing what they most wanted to.

They had musical dreams, and it would be easy to say that a writer's dreams are not as easy to tie down.  We can send out manuscripts, write for the web, promote ourselves and our work--few of us will ever have the world's notice, though the dream might demand more readers than we find.

But we should cling to dream, in our writing, in our other life's pursuits, because we have no chance of succeeding in something we give up on.

I say this as someone who had given up, again, for awhile.  But I'm going to get that dream back--and for this year, I wish each of you a dream to achieve, to pursue--to cling to.  Our lives are better for dream--our own dreams, and often, the dreams of other.

As a post note--I have a manuscript out at a NY publisher, in the final furlong of a race I've been running since first grade--and I am crossing a lot of body parts hoping to will that particular dream home!