Who The Hell Do I Think I Am? A Writer?
I’ve run across a few articles lately, by some authors whom I admire; about their reservations with the validity of blogs and social media in general.
What they expressed, was that they were glad blogging and Facebook weren’t around when they started out, because it would have diluted their process.
They felt they would have just spewed or posted some observational quips, and not taken the time or effort to dredge the murky waters of their deepest feelings.
I disagree. AND. Who the hell do I think I am?
These guys are the real deal. These people are WRITERS. They’ve known they were writers since grade school.
They sat writing while I sang and danced. I saw them.
They’ve kept little blue journals with locks you can pick with a bobby pin (don’t ask me how I know that). These people edited the school newspaper, majored in journalism and communication (again, while I sang and danced) and have published magazine articles and books.
Writing is what they do. A writer is who they are.
I JUST started calling myself a writer like five minutes ago, it’s easily my third incarnation in this incredible life I’m living.
Here’s where I part company with these guys.
Being new to this creative outlet, I have to say, I am SO freaking grateful for the internet.
I can’t help it, I guess because I don’t know any differently.
When I started writing two years ago, I had no idea where it would lead me.
All I knew was: I HAD to write.
I get headaches when I don’t. I get sullen and sad.
Let’s face it, I get itchy and bitchy.
I had heard about blogs, but I’d never read one.
All I knew was, I had suddenly joined the ranks of these brainy creatives that had paid attention in creative writing class (while I sang and danced) and hence are able capture their inner most thoughts and feelings, and put them down on paper (or computer).
Being the extrovert and exhibitionist that I am, I had the audacity to start a blog (I was actually guided) and post something EVERY DAY. I didn’t know that was unusual, but hey, when have I EVER done things the usual way?
Like the authors I mentioned, I could have been silently, and anonymously honing my craft, letting all my memories and experiences marinate until they were ripe and ready for mass consumption.
All of these months of writing coulda/ shoulda been tucked safely away, in a notebook, on a napkin, or on my iPad, with a lock and a password that made sure they were for my eyes only.
It’s a funny thing, the posts that make me squirm, the ones in which I rat myself out or discuss things that still cause me to cringe with shame, those are the ones that get the most traction. I think it’s because you guys can relate, just like I know I can, to someone telling the truth. It may be raw and not perfectly punctuated; but I think you can feel it anyhow.
If I self edited, waited, even hesitated for half a second….I’d never hit POST.
There’s my point. When I realized I wasn’t alone in my pain, embarrassment, failure and fear, I wanted to let other people know my truth, so I let my fingers do the talking.
I can appreciate the other writer’s process, I really can, but I would like them to appreciate mine.
It would feel out of body odd and uncomfortable for them to hit the POST button everyday, because when you do that, everything may not be just right, and that’s….okay.
The internet was made for someone like me. I’m not a solitary person At. All. I need feedback.
I know some days my thoughts ramble, or there’s a period where a comma belongs, or auto correct fucking goes insane, but that’s the spontaneity I think you get from blogging.
My blog is free. You didn’t have to purchase it, and if you don’t like it, or agree with what I write, you can hit delete. Simple as that.
But you don’t. Thank God. You continue to follow and comment and email me, and I appreciate that so much, you’ll never know.
Here’s what I love MOST about social media: it reminds you you’re not alone.
Boy, does it ever!
Here are some other things I love:
I love that it reinforces the fact that mommie’s brains aren’t liquefying while they stay at home. There are some wickedly, crazy funny ladies blogging about the adventures of raising their kids.
I love that musical theatre lovers have their blogs. And science guys. And photographers, fashionistas and entrepreneurs.
I love that in the last ten days there have been so many amazing tributes to Robin Williams and blog discussions about depression that have enlightened me, and brought me to tears.
I love the blogs and articles that are being written on race relations. It’s a hot topic for sure, but it’s being discussed – in real time.
Here’s the thing about the internet, I don’t have to wait for the books that will be written about these subjects, with their pristine editing, perfect grammar and punctuation, I’m reading some really thoughtful and comprehensive writing – today.
All that being said, here’s the elephant in the room.
I’m about to go do a writing workshop with some heavy duty, REAL writers ( I KNOW! I can’t believe it either) and work on a book derived from things I’ve written in this blog.
A book? Whaaaaaaaatttttt?
I’m going to take you with me on this journey, to keep me on the straight and narrow.
So My tribe, here’s a question before I go.
What are some things I’ve written about that you’d like to see in a book? What do you want to hear more about? I’m curious.
( I can see it in the comments now, “write more about that devilishly handsome, fascinating Husband character, he’s so very interesting.)
Okay honey, will do 😉
Love you guys,