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?

Purple is a Fruit

purple drinkok. it’s about time to finally get some things off my chest.  here goes.

  1. about five years ago, before everyone and their pets and their grandma’s pets had a blog, i wanted to start one- beyond my livejournal account that I’ve had since you needed invitations for livejournal.  i started writing for examiner.com and did this whole blog about bisexuality.  it was pretty awesome.  i started thinking of other topics i could write about; pop culture and whatnot, and decided that i wanted to do a zombie blog.  it was going to be written from a survivor’s point of view, or sometimes the zombie.  it was going to be tongue-in-cheek, and pretty humorous.  not having a heckuva lot of confidence in my crazy ideas, i asked someone what they thought- and they said to me- “i dunno.  no one cares about zombies.  vampires are in.  you should do a blog about vampires’.  meanwhile, a quick search brought up a zillion vampire blogs (thanks edward and bella!) and what confidence i had about a zombie blog was abandoned.  boy. am i kicking myself now.
  2. as i just mentioned, i wrote for examiner.com and had a purple4pretty great blogabout bisexuality.  it was great to be able to explain myself, along with my opinions about the subject while explaining it to others.  i thought it was successful, despite being a slow starter, until more than a handful of people basically shot me right outof the sky.  so no more bisexuality blog for me.  just the other day i saw a post about bisexuality on thegoddamn, motherfucking huffington post- and let me tell you- the article was terrible.  a toddler without grasp of english could have written a better article.  eat a dick, man.  eat a straight up dick.
  3. purple2way back in my live journal-ing days, i used to post my pithy anecdotes and hilarious musings in list format.  my live journal friends/followers complained that the lists made my posts too blocky and fragmented; they said that there was no flow and that listing made my posts less formal.  the other day as i sat reading how to blog like the pros and whatnot, they stated how LISTS ARE ALL THE RAGE…. seriously?  like, i know i didn’t invent listing stuff in a blog, but for bananas in pajamas-sake….
  4. lastly- and worst-ly- almost ten years ago i realized that my slutty brain could produce some very interesting reading material.  i started writing down fantasies and no holds barred hard core sex stories.  i was very proud of my smut-rotica.  and then.  i let other people read it.  let’s just say, i stopped writing dirty stories after their reviews.  the main complaint was that people wouldn’t be able to handle stories about sex- even if they were eloquently written.  the scenarios were too graphic and the descriptions were “too sexual” as someone pointed out.  “society is not able to deal with sex stories in an everyday way.  they want vanilla sex and even want THAT hidden behind bedroom doors”.  that was how it was put to me.  and so i stopped writing them.  and what pops up years later?  everyone’s favorite and instant sex classic- Fifty Shades of whatnot. it was what american women were waiting for.  and they couldn’t get enough.  and now- even disney mass produces mainstream sex stories. great. i give up.purple3

it all makes me want to crawl into a hole—.  it’s hard to be creative and original and i have always had performance anxiety that i’ll look like i’m copying or biting on someone else’s style (as the kids say).  i know that ‘nothing is new’ and i’m not naive enough to think that i’m going to reinvent the writin’ wheel or even that i’m gonna have a post go viral wi

th a cookie cutter subject that 9,999 people have already blogged about.  the problem is that i was dumb enough to let people talk me out of it writing what i wanted, the way i wanted.  i let my lack of confidence in my writing hold me back from putting my words out there in the way i wanted to.

purpletiniit’s driving me to drink. ok. so i drink anyways.  it’s MAKING me need a fancy frou frou girly purply cocktail. ok.  so another one.  whatever. don’t you judge me. i’m upset.

All You Can Eat Friend Buffet

Did you ever look at your facebook and see your friends always doing super fun things and wonder why you werent there to join in? does it seem like everyone is always having more fun than you? i realize NOT EVERYONE is having the time of their lives on a daily basis, but some, in fact are, and i am NEVER along for that ride.

if i dont plan something, or ask someone to do things, nothing happens. if i dont hold people’s hands and cruise direct, i wind up doing nothing. but somehow MAGICALLY people always seem to have 3000 things to do and my phone doesnt ever seem to ring.

if it happened just once in awhile, that wouldnt be such a big deal- but this is constant. and whats worse? these are always people that started off as “my friends” but through one of my parties or events, i have introduced them, and they fall instantly in FRIENDLOVE and then, ultimately i’m left at home on the couch, watching 6million photos of them riding unicorns come up on instagram. i gotta say that it sucks. a lot.

even worse is when my friends meet and they decide to date or hook up. that ALWAYS ends badly. but guess who gets stuck in the middle? ME. i end being their liason, advice giver, their confidant, and even a third wheel on dates- and then nothing. there i am, on a friday nite, by myself, watching their 45 tagged check ins pop up on facebook. and guess which asshole gets consulted when problems start to arise? THIS ASSHOLE. you better believe it. why? because i was THEIR FRIEND- and know them. unlike the person that jumped into dating them. and then, if/when they break up, this asshole here, is stuck in the middle of it.

do i sound bitter? fuck yeah i do. why? because i am. i HONESTLY do NOT have a problem introducing friends around- i dont! i’m happy when people meet and connect and become friends, i honestly am. what i CANNOT DEAL WITH- is that when these people connect, i ALWAYS end up a third wheel, like they have been the ones that were friends forever, and not us. and then ultimately, i end up alone on a friday nite, wondering where the hell my friends all went.

if this only happened once or twice, i wouldnt care. but it happens CONSTANTLY. i have become an ALL YOU CAN EAT FRIEND BUFFET. and people know it too. “oh hey! i’m off work this weekend- what are you doing?” conveniently i have stuff going on, because i usually do- IF I DONT- it’s COUCH CITY for me. most times i see that people fucking friend each other on facebook WHILE WE ARE STILL HANGING OUT at the damn event. lately, it seems that the whole THIRD WHEEL thing has even been cut out. i dont even get invited along to shows that they both coicidentally wanted to go to and make plans to be besties and go together within 2 hours of meeting.

do i still go out and have fun? sure i do. do i have my own “THIS SHIT IS HILARIOUS” pic moments on facebook, of course i do. i’m sure there are people that think every day of my life is eating tubes of cookie dough and no-handed shots and pinatas, and that’s why people hang out with me. i’m FUN. but my novelty ALWAYS seems to wear off. and the people that came along for THE *MISS TEE* CAVALCADE OF HILARITY before, are on their own merry go rounds now, together.

IT IS MADDENING. and NO. i am not being sensitive. NO. i am not just paranoid. THIS HAPPENS CONSTANTLY. it’s so bad now, that i dont even want to introduce people around, bc i feel like some FRIEND PIMP and i dont even get paid or bought a drink no mo. i feel invisible most times now, because i feel like people just want me around for the people that i bring.

no joking, i’m a super cool awesome fun person, and i assume that maybe my personality might be too big and intense for some people- but i tend to be JUST FINE for my friends UNTIL this other super cool person that has more in common with THAT FRIEND comes along, and then- it’s BYE BYE BYE to me.

i’m at the point where i cant even look at my fucking facebook on friday nites or monday mornings.

and every time my friend becomes friends with another one of my friends, they get distant, like they know i’m going to throw a fit, or not be “cool” with it… and at first i didnt care and i was honestly “cool” with it…. UNTIL>>>>> i started seeing these new besties intermingling THEIR FRIENDS… and i would think to myself- “self? have we met these people?” and usually we havent. THIS HAPPENS SO OFTEN you would think i’m exaggerating. it’s like people come into MY little social network and go shopping, but i NEVER am invited into THEIR group. it’s really eating me up.

so, here i sit, going through this strange phenomenon that has become a regular occurrence in my life with not just one but SEVERAL friends. and now i have to decide if i just delete my facebook and ignore it (which NEVER worked in the past), or do i become a hermit? do i invite myself along to their outings WHICH I OBVIOUSLY WAS NOT INVITED TO (and it wasnt just a matter of me being busy)? or do i just purge these people, put them on the same backburner that i seem to be on and move on?

why do people seem to be able to only interact with people that are in their immediate attention? why do peope have the ability to only be friends with, like, 2 people at a time? and most importantly where the hell is MY unicorn party?

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.

On Writing

so, i have always loved writing. i always enjoy the control of it, the catharsis, the release, the power. i love the creation and evolution and even organization of written words. not to sound trite, but i have been writing as long as i can remember- even going so far as getting caught and BUSTED in 4th grade for a naughty illustrated short story called “HORNY MOANA.” but as life went on, reality and the BIGPEOPLE WORLD clouded my brain from ever becoming a successful writer. self doubt, improbability and the general PIPE DREAM of being an accomplished writer was squashed dead, like the proverbial cockroach. i can look back to a period of almost a decade where i believed writing to be such a farfetched fantasy that i didnt write ANYTHING AT ALL. no real surprising coincidence that it was about the time of my FIRST GREAT DEPRESSION….

something inside broke and i was unable to process any of my emotions which all seemed to be fighting to try and get out at once. i hated so much about my life, my self, my everything. i cried nonstop for days and days. my brain was short-circuiting and i couldnt figure out what to do, so i picked up a notebook and started to write again.

i remember writing for two days solid. it was dark and sinister, cruel and cold, and moreover, it was barely legible. but it didnt matter. words spewed forth and as if by magick, disappeared into the universe. so writing was back on the menu, and for awhile, was all the mental medication i needed. after awhile BIGPEOPLE life got in the way again, and started taking over my writing time, until it was little more than a scribbled sentence or two on a napkin.

once again, unsurprisingly, my depression hit back, and even harder this time, cracking me in the back of my skull with a diagnosis of “agoraphobia”, “acute chronic depression” and “social anxiety disorder.” great. add to that absolutely no self confidence, rotten self esteem and harshly critical unsupportive peers that said that writing was a ridiculous waste of time, even as a mere hobby. my writing career was over before it was even a seed in my brain.

many more braincloudy years passed, and i kept ticking down time, slogging through housewifery and reality television, until one day i rediscovered one of my old journals. it was if i actually could hear the light come on again, and i began to write again. i described my painful and lonely journey through depression and as before, felt myself blossoming back to life. in that moment, i realized that writing was one of the only things that made sense to me, and that it was something i had to do. i realized that i HAD to be a writer. that as a hobby, or dabbler or a full-blown best selling novelist, that by goddess, i had to write. that was almost a decade ago and since then, i have been making AND TAKING steps to living my fully realized dream; becoming a professional (and paid) writer.

this is a scary thing, a daunting task. an unbelievably, impossibly stupid goal uphill, both ways, in the snow.  and i realize this is the hokey schmaltz back-story of most writers, especially since i love what i write and i always have. HOWEVER, i rarely, until recently have ever shared my work, so based my confidence of my writing SOLELY on my own opinions. the times when i allowed others to read things, all have been very well received, with loads of compliments and pats on the back. but, i’m not that easily convinced and still doubt my writing ability. i have since named this “THE AMERICAN IDOL COMPLEX.” THE AMERICAN IDOL COMPLEX is when starry-eyed and naive people go on American Idol because their family and some people at a karaoke bar in a bo dunk town told them that they were “the best singer they ever heard.” they have unnecessarily and totally inaccurate assessments and opinions of themselves, and ultimately end up looking like idiots in front of the world. now, i never plan to publicly humiliate myself in front of millions of people, but the idea is the same.

i will say this, taking things painfully slow, spending months researching and planning seems to be working and finally paying off. i am finally gaining more confidence sharing my work and getting all of my little wordy ducks in a row. i am incredibly proud of myself, and all that i have accomplished, in the short time since i put my plan into action. i never listened to my mom too much because she wasnt much for sayings, but i’d like to think that if she said anything, she’d say “slow and steady wins the race.”

now, i still dont flatter myself to think that i will ever become a female David Sedaris like i always tell my son, but regardless, i am actually taking steps and accomplishing more than i expected thus far. and although i have been doin’ the whole “slow and steady” thing over a span of many, many years, i finally feel like i am gaining momentum, and have been writing my little heart out, now i am starting to get impatient. i found myself resenting my (paid) job today and all week, for that matter, because it was getting in the way of my writing. now, i’m not cool or conceited enough to believe that i dont need a paid job or income, in fact i have been lacking in the money department for a few months. winter is always a slow time for me; tis the nature of the beast, but years before, i always was proud of myself for powering through and getting myself back to good.

this year?  there is little motivation to have my own business; my focus and attention are all on writing.  and i know that my business is what gives me the luxury of having so much free time to write, but i feel that familiar creeping dread of “gotta go to work tomorrow” that i had with every other job.  i always prided myself on being happy to go to work, and not wasting energy like the rest of the 9 to 5’ers on being miserable.

“means to an end,” they say, and i’m going to keep on keepin’ on, but it was just what was on my mind today as i finished updating the zine and then trooped out the door to “make the doughnuts,” so to speak.  again, i don’t flatter myself that i am better than other hardworking people, least of all my boyfriend that works harder and more awful hours than most, but like i said, this was just the thoughts on the ol’ brain.  i would guess that this feeling is as much motivation that i need to keep me on my path.

my brain is on fire and once again words are fighting to get out, but this time, i am prepared.  i am ready!  the writing switch has been flipped.  no way i am going back now!  it’s full steam ahead, captain!  WRITING HO!