Well, there was a lot of Internet surfing involved. Some naps. Also masturbation. But I was writing full-time in theory, and I did get a lot done: two novels, a few published stories, and some 89674345678976456789 non-published stories. I worked in cafes and at home. I typed and wrote. I submitted to agents and publishers and I kept all my rejections.
So, finally, I quit and went to work. It was very nice to get out of my head for a year, to shop and dress well. To dress at all was a giant step.
Now I'm pregnant and my future is laid out and it's time to write again, but I have no confidence. I have a folder full of rejections and several directories full of stories I can't even look at. In short, I have no confidence. Every sentence I write is pained over before it hits the word processor; by the time it gets there, I know it isn't worthwhile.
Mr. Aran is working a lot these days. He's skipping all else to sit at his desk and draw. The work is just pouring out of him, great quantities of beautiful robots and schoolgirls and monsters and stuff, each better than the last. He wakes at 4:30 am and goes directly to his desk.
I remember being like that. I want to sit behind him at my desk and work; instead I post on message boards and type in IRC.
I took a big step yesterday. I burned every bit of writing I could find on the laptop onto a CD and put it up here on my new computer. Maybe I'll go through it. Actually post something, for the two of you who read this page. I'm not expecting comments. I just want to see it up in print somewhere. Probably won't help, but I'm tired of not working. It's ripping me up.
posted by Samus @ 1:38 PM
8 Comments:
I know that terrible feeling. I should be working on something. I feel creative. I must do something. Fuck. I can't. I bet a coffee would help. I'll go get coffee. Maybe a muffin. Or a movie. Yes.
Hello. Er. Three people, or possibly a couple more lurkers.
I happened across your blog completely at random a couple of months ago (I was arguing over the proper spelling of 'girliness'), and as I liked what I saw I bookmarked it and checked it every week or so when procrastinating.
I just thought I should tell you, you probably have more readers than you think. Apologies for stalking you silently on the web like that, but I assume you wouldn't be publishing on the web like this if you felt particularly uncomfortable with the idea.
Feel free to look at my blog, it's not particularly personal, but it is also as boring as hell. It's intended for friends and family, not the entertainment of random strangers.
Hey Shani. I'm not uncomfy with random readers. Thanks for reading, though; helps my ego.
Mr. Aran told me to write this: "Don't be a girl who sucks. Also, cats are nice, except when they're not."
I like to procrastinate at work. I'll read yours there. <3
The problem with my blog is basically that too many people read it (friends, family, remote family, people I've stopped talking to...).
I can't post anything insulting or the one being insulted will get to hear about it. And I can't post anything too personal because, well, damnit, my parents! my *siblings*! that's practically against the laws of teenagerdom.
As a result it's full of whatever nonsense occupied me at the time, usually work-related (English lit degree). And there's little quality control, because people start panicking and thinking I'm dead if I haven't blogged for a day.
Right, I consider you adequately warned now... and I may actually do what I've been meaning to for months, and try to keep it vaguely interesting.
I wonder how blogs can change family relationships if more parents knew about their childrens blogs and read them. Is that like reading a diary? Somehow it seems different.
It is different, but also easy to hide. Shani, I suggest you go forth today and get yourself a new blog, with a whole new name, that nobody knows except those you deign to tell. Only Brendan and Mr. Aran and maybe a few others who read this even know who I am.
Take advantage of the net in all its glory. You can't stifle your writing because your parents are watching; it'll choke you eventually.
oh, I know a lot of people my age who would die rather than let their parents read their blog.
It's not quite like reading a diary because, well, it's *online*. That's as public as it gets. It's *not* just private musings. On the other hand, the target audience rarely includes parents, and to read the blog of someone who doesn't want you to is just mean spirited. Although I would award them Stupid Points for allowing it to be traceable if that's what they did. Particularly on Livejournal, which is where the majority of such blogs are to be found, becase there you can tell even more about people's guilty interests on their Friends page.
The only thing my readership stifles is whinging about my family, really. And about college, I suppose, but I do that anyway, because I don't give out the link to my site frequently and it can't be found by googling my name, thank god.
If I ever make actual art too personal for family and friends to read (as opposed to just whinging which could offend), I'd want something entirely anonymous. That hasn't come up yet though because in some ways I really do suck, in that I don't write, and I have a nagging feeling that I should.
Never underestimate the need to whine anonymously.
And that nagging feeling like you really should be writing doesn't get any quieter as you age. Better to just do it now and get it over with. :)
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