Quandry


i am starting to have doubts about being a writer.
the other day i blogged about ideas that i had, that never got published because of my lack of confidence.
i know that nothing is original and every possible topic on every possible subject has been covered in every possible way- but it still messes with your self esteem as a writer. it makes you wonder why you write. it makes you doubt that you can ever be successful. i’ve had pep talks from friends and motivating chats with other authors, and ironically read blogs on that subject. they all said about the same thing; that there are different types of success. that you don’t need to be Stephen King or a Jk Rowland to be successful, that art is just as important, keeping your integrity and blah blah blah. none of that helped shoo away my doubts.

the idea was still knocking around my brain this morning as i was perusing Facebook and i saw one of those ecard-y type dealies with one a line from one of the memoirs i read at an open mic nite a few years ago. coincidence? possibly. probably. maybe. i dunno. but it was eye opening and even made me a little queasy.

it’s not as if i need millions of dollars, or to turn out a five book series to feel successful, i just am very afraid of producing something that looks as if it is copied or plagiarized. again, i’m not trying to reinvent the writin’ wheel, i just hate copycat-ism. i just really hate the idea of it looking like i’m jumping on the young adult or mommyporn bandwagons even if it just might be considered a ‘trend’.

i know that writers and artists have been struggling with this subject forever and i certainly won’t be the one to solve it, but it’s a thought i have ever single time i sit down to write.

in a society and world that blogging is more popular than ever and social media is as integral to most people’s day as breakfast, is one more blog necessary? how many more tweets or Twilight knockoffs before people don’t even pay attention anymore? what are your thoughts on this, kiddos?

Better, please.

i was on a long hiatus from blogging over here because, i guess, in general, i wasnt all about how it worked. wordpress is such an incestuous community, and it seemed less about sharing your writing than getting followers for your own blog. i was tired of getting followers only because they wanted me to follow them. i’m self involved and narcissistic, but i’m not naive enough to believe that i am writing anything that people will beat down the door to read, but if you are going to follow me, or at least try and get me to follow you- i’d have hoped that people would at least TRY to read my shit. not only that i realized that i was somewhat guilty of the same thing-i was following people knowing full well that i was NEVER going to have time to read them all, and most of the shit people were blogging about was so boring or braggy about how many followers they had. fuck that, i said and so i pretty much ditched wordpress, and went back to private personal journaling.

after awhile i remembered why i came to wordpress and decided that i needed the structure and dare i say, guilt motivated publishing that this kind of writing provides. i remembered wanting to publish more content and less personal drama. i remembered having that hope that i would/could/potentially connect with other writers who wanted the same, for actual constructive critiscm and all of the things that fellow writers do when they are connected.

so. i’m back. and i guess i’m hoping for a better experience this time, although, we all know, that is up to what i post and whether or not i actually connect with likeminded people.

Everyone’s Rock

i have to say that i am pretty discouraged right now.
i tend to be everyone’s support, everyone’s safeplace.
but here i am, alone again on another friday night, crying.
and i’ll get up tomorrow and go through the motions of being happy, completing tasks for everyone else, but i definitely feel very hollow right now.
and if anyone bothers to notice, or realizes that i am unhappy, i’ll get some hamhanded attempts to cheer me, mostly making me feel sorry that they feel guilty enough to TRY.
i feel so empty right now. and i feel like i have to be. there is very little room for my own emotions anymore. i’m so busy putting out fires, running interference, playing devil’s advocate and being everyone else’s sounding board, that i have very little time for my own mental health anymore.

i am exhausted.
and, as trite as it is, it’s just not fair.

the one thing that brings me joy, my writing, is looked upon as a joke, dismissed as a waste of time.

welp. it’s about time to put on my smiley face and fix everyone’s problems but my own.

this is my own personal pity party.
thanks for coming.