Day 13: Picking Back Up
Well, that only took a month.
Whoops.
But I'm back today, and I'll be posting every day from now until March 20th.
The great thing is, I now have a ton of stuff to write about, because I'm embarking on an exciting new journey unlike anything I've ever attempted before.
That's right, people: I am actually going to try to be a writer.
As in, a person who puts words down one after another and somehow finds that magical combination of letters to summon the Golden Money Fairy to come and tap me with her wand.
I don't know why money is the measure of success and legitimacy in our world. I do, however, know that I enjoy being able to afford things like dental work and cheese. So for just these three months, I'm going to try my hand at making money at writing and see if I have what it takes to do this professionally, or if I'm doomed to forever be a hobbyist/dreamer/English teacher.
Given the sporadic nature of my blogging, my procrastination skills, and the overall lack of driving ambition and relentless confidence I possess, I'm nervous. I am very nervous. It seems like it would be easier to never really try, never give it a real shot, and never see it confirmed that no, I'm really not cut out for this. Maybe writing should always stay a pipe dream, one I never pursue, because then at least the dream won't be dead. It won't have ever really lived, either, but un-concieved is better than dead, right? This whole silly obsession could end with a harmless little blog and a very expensive B.A.
Or I could venture out into the terrifying, dark woods of Real World Markets, clutching my pen and paper, shivering in the wind. Turn back! The wind urges. In the shadows, the hungry red eyes of the editors gleam, waiting to leap out and rip my fragile words apart. "Derivative," they growl from their hiding places. "Amateurish drivel."
But onward I go. The path may be dark, but forward is the only direction worth moving.
Whoops.
But I'm back today, and I'll be posting every day from now until March 20th.
The great thing is, I now have a ton of stuff to write about, because I'm embarking on an exciting new journey unlike anything I've ever attempted before.
That's right, people: I am actually going to try to be a writer.
As in, a person who puts words down one after another and somehow finds that magical combination of letters to summon the Golden Money Fairy to come and tap me with her wand.
I don't know why money is the measure of success and legitimacy in our world. I do, however, know that I enjoy being able to afford things like dental work and cheese. So for just these three months, I'm going to try my hand at making money at writing and see if I have what it takes to do this professionally, or if I'm doomed to forever be a hobbyist/dreamer/English teacher.
Given the sporadic nature of my blogging, my procrastination skills, and the overall lack of driving ambition and relentless confidence I possess, I'm nervous. I am very nervous. It seems like it would be easier to never really try, never give it a real shot, and never see it confirmed that no, I'm really not cut out for this. Maybe writing should always stay a pipe dream, one I never pursue, because then at least the dream won't be dead. It won't have ever really lived, either, but un-concieved is better than dead, right? This whole silly obsession could end with a harmless little blog and a very expensive B.A.
Or I could venture out into the terrifying, dark woods of Real World Markets, clutching my pen and paper, shivering in the wind. Turn back! The wind urges. In the shadows, the hungry red eyes of the editors gleam, waiting to leap out and rip my fragile words apart. "Derivative," they growl from their hiding places. "Amateurish drivel."
But onward I go. The path may be dark, but forward is the only direction worth moving.
You go girl!!! Write even though it's scary!!!
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