They say that most people who "want to be writers" never actually finish a manuscript, much less complete the editing process not once but twice. That the unsuccessful are often that because they don't put in the effort. But where does the effort actually stop? Even if you have a manuscript, it can take up to ten years to be published.
I guess at least I've made a distinction that some people don't. I am a writer...even if the flow for this particular entry is a little dull, I don't doubt that. I have the evidence after all. But I am not an author, which is a little bit different isn't it? And I certainly wouldn't call myself successful, not in direct correlation to this particular career choice. So in the end, am I any better than the half-baked child I was?
Part of attaining anything is putting in the work to get it. Depending on the thing you desire to attain, the sacrifice will be greater or lesser. Though what value you place on the thing has more influence on how much you will sacrifice for it than what value it has in society. At least that's how I feel about it. Thus my trip to Ohio this coming weekend...although I'm beginning to think it may have been not the best thought out plan, it is what's going down. Hopefully I will make some connections, or at least learn something about my chosen craft. I'd better because this business is going to be pretty darn expensive. Either way, I'll surely enjoy seeing Meghan (and maybe she'll forgive me for using her as a free hotel). And getting out of Roanoke for a bit is definitely a plus.
So in the end I think it will be a good trip. And maybe I'll have taken another formative step towards my goals. Because since it's going to take me at least three years to pay off my loans most likely, I might as well work on what I can reach. And, as much as I may chaff at the location, where I live and what I'm doing are both surprisingly well-suited for this activity. We'll see where things go from here.
Oh and by the way, I am about 500 words away from the minimum halfway point for my new book, tentatively titled "Mother of Creation." Am I psyched? Yes.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Passion
I realized something today thanks to an email I received from a magazine I had previously submitted work to. I was at that time rejected, but I still get emails when they have new submission guidelines to put up, and I remain hopeful. Some of the greatest authors were not even recognized as such until their death, after all.
That aside, I was reading the guidelines for a new project they are doing that calls for literary erotica. And I realized something rather profound. I could certainly write erotica, but it would really have no soul. Because the last time I felt erotic was...a while ago anyway. Sure, I've had lovers since that time, but the engagement was much the same as writing a piece of erotic literature would be. All of the surface detail was there, but it was hollow. There was no spark. Even if something like that got published, it wouldn't necessarily make me happy.
I guess what I'm saying is to write, and to write well, one needs passion. You can string words together all day long but if you can't feel it it's not there. The same as with people, or work, or anything else in life. And passion comes from being able to share something with someone else.
Really the only reason I'm thinking about all these things is because I'm living alone. I almost had a heart attack in the shower this morning when the door blew open thinking someone was in the apartment with me. Too many years of paranoia driven parenting. I realized in that moment that there was nowhere I could go. No one I could rely on. No way to be safe. And no one who would miss me if I disappeared. The last isn't entirely true of course. My mother is coming to visit this afternoon and so she would have realized if I was missing or dead. But that wouldn't have done me much good.
Still, I understand why people who live alone go out all the time and are never home. It's lonely to come home to nothing. You wonder why you're doing what you're doing. What's the point if the only person you're living for is yourself? But that's not really true either, it just feels that way from time to time. You're always connected. Even when sitting alone inside hollow rooms that echo with nothing.
That aside, I was reading the guidelines for a new project they are doing that calls for literary erotica. And I realized something rather profound. I could certainly write erotica, but it would really have no soul. Because the last time I felt erotic was...a while ago anyway. Sure, I've had lovers since that time, but the engagement was much the same as writing a piece of erotic literature would be. All of the surface detail was there, but it was hollow. There was no spark. Even if something like that got published, it wouldn't necessarily make me happy.
I guess what I'm saying is to write, and to write well, one needs passion. You can string words together all day long but if you can't feel it it's not there. The same as with people, or work, or anything else in life. And passion comes from being able to share something with someone else.
Really the only reason I'm thinking about all these things is because I'm living alone. I almost had a heart attack in the shower this morning when the door blew open thinking someone was in the apartment with me. Too many years of paranoia driven parenting. I realized in that moment that there was nowhere I could go. No one I could rely on. No way to be safe. And no one who would miss me if I disappeared. The last isn't entirely true of course. My mother is coming to visit this afternoon and so she would have realized if I was missing or dead. But that wouldn't have done me much good.
Still, I understand why people who live alone go out all the time and are never home. It's lonely to come home to nothing. You wonder why you're doing what you're doing. What's the point if the only person you're living for is yourself? But that's not really true either, it just feels that way from time to time. You're always connected. Even when sitting alone inside hollow rooms that echo with nothing.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Complications
Perhaps I was a little too hasty in titling this blog.
In some ways, having a job for these past two weeks has allowed me to appreciate the simple things in life in a way I hadn't when lost in the listlessness of summer. But in other ways, it has been stressful in the extreme.
Since starting work two weeks ago I haven't written a single word. My relationship with my parents has degenerated. And my fears have mounted. I begin to wonder who I am. I envy others their apparently clear path forward.
I want to know with certainty where it is I want to be, and more than that (for I begin to think I already do) I want to have the opportunity to be there. And I wonder if I made a wrong turn. What if I'm going the wrong direction? But there's no one who takes my worries seriously, no one I can rely on. Catherine, maybe, but she's too busy. I know I should be able to take care of my own worries. I try to count the blessings I have. And I am grateful. I understand that where I am is where a lot of people pray their whole lives to be. If I play my cards right, I have a lifelong, high-paying position with great benefits. Even should my current position for some reason not be fulfilling enough or disappear, I can move through the company without sacrificing anything - except my dreams. And if that sounds dramatic, then I guess it is. But it's how I feel.
No one gets it. And so today I made a decision.
1) I'm going to learn to rely on myself. I'm tired of being someone who is a burden on others. I'm tired of being weak. I don't want that anymore.
2) By next September, I will have determined exactly what I want to do with my life. And I will be leaving this position, or at least in the process of it, and taking the next step forward to fulfill my own ideals. I'll be 23. It's a good age to start the rest of my life.
And in the meantime, I'm going to learn everything I can from this position. I'm going to learn everything I can from Roanoke and the community I find myself in. And I'm going to learn about myself, too. And I'm going to keep pursuing the things that make me me.
Oh, and I'm going to pay off at least one of my loans. And save lots of money. Because why the fuck else did I take this position?
I won't be the narrow-minded, rigid, afraid person you think I am.
In some ways, having a job for these past two weeks has allowed me to appreciate the simple things in life in a way I hadn't when lost in the listlessness of summer. But in other ways, it has been stressful in the extreme.
Since starting work two weeks ago I haven't written a single word. My relationship with my parents has degenerated. And my fears have mounted. I begin to wonder who I am. I envy others their apparently clear path forward.
I want to know with certainty where it is I want to be, and more than that (for I begin to think I already do) I want to have the opportunity to be there. And I wonder if I made a wrong turn. What if I'm going the wrong direction? But there's no one who takes my worries seriously, no one I can rely on. Catherine, maybe, but she's too busy. I know I should be able to take care of my own worries. I try to count the blessings I have. And I am grateful. I understand that where I am is where a lot of people pray their whole lives to be. If I play my cards right, I have a lifelong, high-paying position with great benefits. Even should my current position for some reason not be fulfilling enough or disappear, I can move through the company without sacrificing anything - except my dreams. And if that sounds dramatic, then I guess it is. But it's how I feel.
No one gets it. And so today I made a decision.
1) I'm going to learn to rely on myself. I'm tired of being someone who is a burden on others. I'm tired of being weak. I don't want that anymore.
2) By next September, I will have determined exactly what I want to do with my life. And I will be leaving this position, or at least in the process of it, and taking the next step forward to fulfill my own ideals. I'll be 23. It's a good age to start the rest of my life.
And in the meantime, I'm going to learn everything I can from this position. I'm going to learn everything I can from Roanoke and the community I find myself in. And I'm going to learn about myself, too. And I'm going to keep pursuing the things that make me me.
Oh, and I'm going to pay off at least one of my loans. And save lots of money. Because why the fuck else did I take this position?
I won't be the narrow-minded, rigid, afraid person you think I am.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Apartment hunting
Rawr for life decisions....
I found two great apartments yesterday that I feel really positive about. They both have hardwood floors, which is one of my preferences, and office space. The difference is that one is two bedrooms and really eclectic (which I like) plus the kitchen is really spacious, so you could have people over for dinner (which is also a plus since I'd like to do that). The other is about 100 dollars less expensive, has a decent sized kitchen but that's it, and only one bedroom. It also could potentially have the advantage of having its own water heater and access to a washer/dryer. I think they're both about the same on utilities....well for one I would have a gas bill in the winter. Even though I know it will be a lot to clean, I would like to have more space rather than less honestly. They both are the same for the initial deposit as well. So I'm going to bring my parents to see both of them this weekend hopefully and get their opinion on both. I have to call both of the landlords tomorrow and set up appointments.
Also, I'm probably a corporate sell-out. But it's the only option I've been presented so far so I'm gonna go with it.
I found two great apartments yesterday that I feel really positive about. They both have hardwood floors, which is one of my preferences, and office space. The difference is that one is two bedrooms and really eclectic (which I like) plus the kitchen is really spacious, so you could have people over for dinner (which is also a plus since I'd like to do that). The other is about 100 dollars less expensive, has a decent sized kitchen but that's it, and only one bedroom. It also could potentially have the advantage of having its own water heater and access to a washer/dryer. I think they're both about the same on utilities....well for one I would have a gas bill in the winter. Even though I know it will be a lot to clean, I would like to have more space rather than less honestly. They both are the same for the initial deposit as well. So I'm going to bring my parents to see both of them this weekend hopefully and get their opinion on both. I have to call both of the landlords tomorrow and set up appointments.
Also, I'm probably a corporate sell-out. But it's the only option I've been presented so far so I'm gonna go with it.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Moving forward
I am now an employee of Elizabeth Arden.
Through my employment I am going to advance my Spanish and gather the money to live my dreams. I'm going to find an apartment in the neighborhood of Roanoke I most love, take Aikido, and save up money and vacation time until I have enough to go to Japan. In the meantime I will continue writing, pay off my school loans, and learn how to be an adult, finally.
I am, needless to say, mildly nervous and extremely excited.
So here's to the start of something new.
Through my employment I am going to advance my Spanish and gather the money to live my dreams. I'm going to find an apartment in the neighborhood of Roanoke I most love, take Aikido, and save up money and vacation time until I have enough to go to Japan. In the meantime I will continue writing, pay off my school loans, and learn how to be an adult, finally.
I am, needless to say, mildly nervous and extremely excited.
So here's to the start of something new.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
A message from Elizabeth Gilbert
The author's opinion of Eat, Pray, Love
If you could do anything, anything you wanted, what would it be? If money were no object, tell me your dream. What does your future look like? Nothing is too big, or too small.
Well I'd start off traveling to Japan. And probably also northern Spain. I'd take Aikido and learn to use my staff. I'd study Japanese forever. I'd buy every major work of Spanish literature and read them all, and a lot of the English ones as well. I'd probably take yoga, too. I'd go to a spa, lavish attention on myself. I'd be able to buy myself new clothes. I'd meditate, somewhere, with someone. I'd be a writer. I'd write about everything. At least that last part I don't have to wish for.
Yeah, I think that about sums up my most immediate goals.
If you could do anything, anything you wanted, what would it be? If money were no object, tell me your dream. What does your future look like? Nothing is too big, or too small.
Well I'd start off traveling to Japan. And probably also northern Spain. I'd take Aikido and learn to use my staff. I'd study Japanese forever. I'd buy every major work of Spanish literature and read them all, and a lot of the English ones as well. I'd probably take yoga, too. I'd go to a spa, lavish attention on myself. I'd be able to buy myself new clothes. I'd meditate, somewhere, with someone. I'd be a writer. I'd write about everything. At least that last part I don't have to wish for.
Yeah, I think that about sums up my most immediate goals.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Introspection
I think I've reaffirmed something for myself.
There are two people who live inside me. No, I'm not confessing to split personality disorder (unless maybe I am o.o). I'm talking about two competing dreams. Two competing ways of viewing the world. I am, in many ways, two completely different people.
Part of me is a writer. The writer is quiet, introverted, and disconnected from reality, but has a good grasp of humans and the human psyche. She listens well, but can sometimes ramble for hours about the same subject. You're often lucky if she remembers to brush her teeth in the morning. The writer dreams. Reality isn't really pertinent. She spends her time seeing the world through the eyes of others - other characters, other dimensions described by other writers and creators. The writer is fragile and secluded, at times, and uncaring of the petty problems found in the everyday at others.
But there's another part of me that longs for new things, that engages unfailingly, that becomes miserable and preoccupied in isolation. I could call this other person a lot of things - diplomat, perhaps, interpreter, a mover and a shaker, certainly - so I suppose a leader will do. The leader makes. The leader does, and loves the reality her feet are planted in. The leader is the person I could be if I accessed my full potential.
I suppose the writer and the leader are not exclusive. It is possible to balance the two. I've managed it before, in some ways. But lately, I feel as if I'm stagnating. Devolving, perhaps. So, essentially what I wanted to say is this: absence makes the heart grow fonder, and balance is the center of stability. Sometimes, balance requires movement, and sometimes it requires none. Always it requires inertia, from a strictly physical perspective. It's the changing from one state to another that is difficult.
At my heart I'll always be a person of cool colors. But I shouldn't forget that I have to hold the whole spectrum to be happy. So I must keep attempting to live a warm and vibrant life.
There are two people who live inside me. No, I'm not confessing to split personality disorder (unless maybe I am o.o). I'm talking about two competing dreams. Two competing ways of viewing the world. I am, in many ways, two completely different people.
Part of me is a writer. The writer is quiet, introverted, and disconnected from reality, but has a good grasp of humans and the human psyche. She listens well, but can sometimes ramble for hours about the same subject. You're often lucky if she remembers to brush her teeth in the morning. The writer dreams. Reality isn't really pertinent. She spends her time seeing the world through the eyes of others - other characters, other dimensions described by other writers and creators. The writer is fragile and secluded, at times, and uncaring of the petty problems found in the everyday at others.
But there's another part of me that longs for new things, that engages unfailingly, that becomes miserable and preoccupied in isolation. I could call this other person a lot of things - diplomat, perhaps, interpreter, a mover and a shaker, certainly - so I suppose a leader will do. The leader makes. The leader does, and loves the reality her feet are planted in. The leader is the person I could be if I accessed my full potential.
I suppose the writer and the leader are not exclusive. It is possible to balance the two. I've managed it before, in some ways. But lately, I feel as if I'm stagnating. Devolving, perhaps. So, essentially what I wanted to say is this: absence makes the heart grow fonder, and balance is the center of stability. Sometimes, balance requires movement, and sometimes it requires none. Always it requires inertia, from a strictly physical perspective. It's the changing from one state to another that is difficult.
At my heart I'll always be a person of cool colors. But I shouldn't forget that I have to hold the whole spectrum to be happy. So I must keep attempting to live a warm and vibrant life.
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