I am Susan Boyle

OK, we all know I’m not really Susan Boyle, the frowsy chanteuse who blew away millions of viewers this past week, first on “Britain’s Got Talent,” and then via YouTube’s instant replays.

First of all, I’m 55, not 47. I live in the United States, not Scotland, in a collection of sprawling suburbs ringing Washington, D.C. I have been kissed, and I’m married. As for my singing, let’s just say it’s not one of my stronger attributes.

But strip away the superficialities and I am Susan Boyle, the tentative, would-be artist trying to hone a talent in the safety of her living room, far from potential critics and disapproving voices.

In the broader scheme of things, Boyle represents all of us who toil in the arts and dream of being discovered, doesn’t she? Don’t we all long for that mystical moment when stunned audiences leap joyfully to their feet as we finally dare to open our mouths, put brush to canvas or pen to paper, click on the camera or jeté onto the stage? How many of us imagine ourselves as emerging swans after a lifetime as ugly ducklings, indistinguishable from the masses?

Simon Cowell asked Boyle about her dream. “Why hasn’t it worked out so far, Susan?”

“I haven’t been getting the chance before,” she replied. “But here’s hoping it will change.”

Getting the chance, hoping for change. It’s what every novice artist seeks. My chances kept eluding me as I raised three sons, all now in their 20s. Life has a way of slipping by, especially for women, when the care and feeding of others is allowed to block the creative process.

The time has come for me to take a chance on blogging. After three decades of modest writing success -- favorable comments from editors, an award here and there -- I’m striving for something bigger, even as my favorite print venues crash and burn. This blog is a new chance, where I can play with my ideas and see what happens.

“I dreamed a dream of time gone by,” Boyle sang, echoing Fantine's frustrations in “Les Misérables.” Electricity surged through that auditorium and ignited a response no one could foresee (sorry, Simon, not even you). Nothing could extinguish it, least of all the disconnect between that radiant voice and the awkward singer. Now Susan Boyle can dream a dream of times to come.

I’d venture to say artists around the globe are telling themselves, “That could be me.” I know I am.