Writing About Writing
I have no idea what I want to write about but I know I need to get started. I have seen so many talented people throw it all away for whatever reason. And I am doing the same. Lately I have seen a ton of bad writing, bad ads, typos, cliches, bad use of voice, unclear, unprofessional writing. And I always think to myself, I can edit that. Or that I can do better. I half-ass look for opportunities and I don’t ever give any of these chances my best shot because I don’t think I’m good enough. But any dipshit with an ounce of bravery can go out there and get published. Meanwhile, I’m sitting here salty, biding my time, as if the perfect opportunity will just present itself to me. I am also waiting until I feel good enough, qualified, like nobody will question me. I am waiting to feel welcome. And the truth is, I never will get that call. Nobody will invite me to write or welcome me the way I feel is the formal way of entering, like going inside someone’s home.
I am waiting. That’s my excuse. I am perfectly capable of doing what I want and need to do. I can love what I do. But I fear rejection. I fear success. I feel that if I set the bar high I will fail. I believe that nobody will like anything I write. Then I see terrible writing that gets attention because of how bad it is.
Let me cut to the chase and say this: I am a walking pity party. I make excuses. I procrastinate. I want that moment of inspiration where I will write a world-changing novel in a week. And in a month I will be out of this apartment, getting whatever recognition I think I deserve.
I admit this now and am ready to take the next step. Showing discipline and actually putting time into my craft is what I want now. I know where I have made my mistakes and am ready to grow and learn from them. This means I am opening myself up to be liked, not liked, criticized, rejected. My fear of failure has kept me from writing. So I am out of practice.
This year I volunteered to assist with a literary magazine. I did not submit anything. I figured I could vicariously be a writer. By limiting myself and working around it, I still learned a ton. But as we are getting closer to publication, seeing my name in the list of editors is great, but I don’t feel as good as if one of my pieces would be in the table of contents. This move, I regret. I didn’t even try.
I am not looking for pity or encouraging words. I am giving you this story because I want you to look at yourself and realize you need to take a chance too. If you are underestimating yourself or are facing these phobias like I am, start working through it. This was written completely off the top of my head. I didn’t edit anything. I am hoping my feelings of frustration with myself are evident. When I put my mind to it, I am a good writer. When I take the time and create something with intention and pacing, I can be a great writer.
Sometimes I ask myself why I even want to do this. I always feel like I have nothing interesting or original to say. But the more I’ve lived, the less I can use that as an excuse.
I want you to know that you deserve to be heard too. You don’t need to wait for a degree or an approval or whatever to know that you are a writer. It took me years to finally say the words I am a writer to people who ask what I do for a living. Technically I am a social media manager, ghost writer, content creator, and marketing specialist. But all of that is writing. I don’t write paragraphs necessarily. I generate information that people can pick up and absorb as quickly as they swipe. I don’t know why I comb job ads for writers. I guess being in business for myself is still a shock to me. I feel like I need more from myself.
That feeling is going to be channeled, but not to serve anyone else but me.
So here I am, ready to create and put it out there and see what happens. My personal writing journey has taken many detours. I have been published long ago. I have written amazing things and have surprised myself at what I’ve accomplished.
Give yourself some credit. I haven’t done that for myself and I am long overdue. Even if I am just another dipshit writing about nothing, at least I’m growing the cajones to do it.
