There’s a cafe in downtown Fairmont I’ve gotten used to visiting when I’m waiting on a bus. The little doodle above was created after one of these mornings, which would be this morning…words…there is a much lovelier way of saying everything I just said…
Speaking of words, I recently put a bunch of them in a particular order for The Writer’s Arena, it was…different. I’ve never done something public like that solo.
I think I feel the same way I do about writing as I do drawing. If there’s a request/subject I struggle and fail to create something notable, I suck at focused fiction. I enjoy writing it, but only if it has nowhere to go and no one to answer to.
I did enjoy writing for the Arena, I enjoy doing pretty much anything for my HEPodcast amigos, I just cringe a little thinking about my story and what it’s going against. I don’t write truly frequently, I don’t believe I’m a writer, at least not the brand that does well on things like this. It’s the thought of an inexperienced 20-year old kid (moi) going against a real writerly hooman.
A couple months ago I recorded a podcast episode with one of the podcast fellows, I was unprepared and frazzled and completely dull and I was stuttering and stumbling. My brain had no real thoughts, at least no complete ones. I was so embarrassed by it that they were kind enough to never release it. It made me dislike a lot of pieces of my personality. My fear of looking stupid or unprepared, how overprotective I can be of my reputation, the fact that I didn’t even try to enjoy the book we were reviewing. And I should have, I should have tried to understand the series and the author and get attached to the characters.
But I viewed it as a fun favor and didn’t bother to take the whole thing to heart, I actually procrastinated and didn’t fight to sink myself into the story, I just came up with a reward system to get through the book chapter-by-chapter. And I’ve discovered that when I jump into something half-heartedly I fail miserably.
I think I’m worried about doing that with the Arena. Because I’m not sure I embraced it with my whole self. And I wonder if I made excuses for myself, and made it acceptable to myself to not try harder to love the act and the process.
I’ve told friends before in the middle of advice rants that they can’t help what they feel, only how they respond and act on the feelings. But in a sense, we can control what we feel. It’s just too often I’m too lazy to attempt to do something about it. We can look at things differently and work harder to understand them. We can chip away pieces of anger or sadness and soften ourselves.
I have a feeling throughout this entire post I am half right and half wrong.
I’m not sure, I’m not thinking very clearly. So it’s very likely I’ll read this over and shake my head.
I hope I stop being afraid of eyes and ears and the thoughts of others. It seems like a ridiculously simple thing to do. It seems simple to say I am my own person, I am not what others see.
Shake off what everyone thinks, and this and that and so on.
I have a fear of becoming too much of some things and too little of others. I’m afraid of being fat and careless and selfish. I’m afraid of being a nobody and of talking and being all talk and blinking and being an old lady with nothing to show for all my talk and young ambition. And I tend to look at other’s opinion of me (specifically, my close friends and family) to see how well I’m actually doing.
If I’m showing how much I care often enough, if I’m reaching out and responding and communicating and following through. If I’m doing right by the people who matter.
Anyway, I have a bus to catch back into Morgantown. So I will go ahead and publish this and see if I regret it later.