After reading an elephant’s ton of writer’s blogs, online literary magazines, twitter feeds, Facebook messages, writer’s advice posts, celebrity gossip, and so much more, I realized some things.
1) I’m over-consuming media.
2) I’m on the computer way too much.
3) I’m not creating anything. The balance of input and “inspiration” to creative output is like 70,000 to 1.
4) I do want a blog. I do like putting thoughts out there , in a very specific manner. But I don’t like thinking about who is reading it, trying to figure out what my angle is, etc…. I want a public blog as a writer and explorer of human nature, as part of the documentation of this world and our stories. I like confessions, to a very fragile degree. I like reading writer processes. And I am in the midst of another do-it-yourself writing/narrative art MFA year. I am parenting, in not the best of stressed ways. I am stress eating. I am thunking my heart out on the floor.
So here. I’m just going to use this as my mental cabinet of fodder and cray cray. Writer-style. Narrative art style.
In some universe, I’ll put every goddamn site I signed up for in a big silly list on the side of one website and make it all real-like. In this universe, I will clean my pans, make the house smell like Nag Champa, and pray to the gods of all that is good that I just make it one more day. And the day after that. And the day after that.