Day two is a weird feeling. Day one is always a fresh and new thing, but day two isn’t as glamorous. I think as a society we have an obsession with starting over and becoming better. That some parts of ourselves are deficient. I read somewhere that marketing preys on that fear and turns it into a need to buy X product because they’re deficient in Y for Z reasons. Seemed plausible enough so I didn’t think to fact check it.
I want to be a novelist, that’s what the 8th grader in me wanted. Hard to believe that eight years ago I was encouraged to put my story ideas into paper. I want to tell stories in new and exciting ways. But the act of writing is difficult to do when the insecurity of potential poor quality gets in the way. I think I’ll take Ira Glass’s advice and just churn out words. Let my fingers and keyboard become a word factory. Pumping out half-baked, potentially shitty stories or essays or thought exercises. Editing is a bloody nightmare. Especially when I take so much care to craft a good story in the 1st draft only to realize later that it’s a fat load of shit.
Writing is the best addiction to have. I grind so much time that those moments where it’s perfect or great or awesome gives me this nice endorphin release within the mind. When people praise my stories I feel like a shining star. What else could have happened? I might think. But it’s when people point out flaws that I should’ve seen or should’ve been able to edit out. That’s when it comes crashing down. This fragile sense of ego. I don’t know who said it but the words “Writing is putting your neck on the line” is apt. Wait no, the saying is “Writing is sticking your neck out” and it’s my English professor who said that. He attributed that to Virgina Wolfe. Funny how his advice is suffused in my brain. He’s helped me a lot on my journey.
I’m a wannabe novelist who’s an English Major. I am a cliche wrapped up in so many different flavors. Hang on, this is reality. I’m putting my neck on the line and I keep self-defeating. Wonderful.
I have a voice, as fragile as it may be. I have a message, no matter how drowned it is within bullshit trivia that I might learn. I am a sponge, soaking up information. But sadly I rarely fact-check and I take information on the honor-system even when I know I shouldn’t. I should be a scientist, that’s what my dad is. But emotions have always been strong within me. My father says I’m sensitive and a lot of my friends say I’m dramatic. I don’t know if they’re right but I try to speak from a place of kindness and truth. But no one is perfect, there are moments I am cruel and moments where lying is beneficial to everyone involved. It hurts to admit that and to think that.
That’s where I stop on this journey of self-discovery. At least for today. Let’s see what thoughts my mind brings forward tomorrow.