I like to post daily. And in the morning. And while I'd like to say it's because it makes me feel closer to you, my fans, the truth is I am goddamn creature of habit.
I have no more control over not posting than my shitty fantasy football team I drafted last night has of winning jackshit this year. And unless you'd like to read about how I screwed the proverbial pooch by drafting Mike Vick (sorry for that tasteless pun) with my first pick overall, thus leaving me a punchless and uninspiring RB core of Mendenhall, "One Hit Wonder" Hillis, and Ryan Motherfucking Matthews, you'll have to accept my apology for this truncated post celebrating a milestone that has already passed, and without much fanfare.
When I hit both the 10K and 20K mark, it felt like a big deal. Because they were arbitrary figures upon which I'd assigned weight and significance for being big, round numbers. I'd been encouraged for years to start a blog, hearing shit like, "You'd be a natural" and "In this day and age, publishing is changing," and I didn't listen much. Despite the emergence of the digital and world wide web, without a traditional publisher, there lacks the credibility, the acceptance of one's peers, and most importantly the actual, acknowledged credential I'd need to follow my dream. The cushy 2/2 course load at a state college. Could go with a lot of visual aids here, but this one made me laugh the most this morning.
And you can't really have that one, without this...
But like most of my hardline, without-basis, irrational misconceptions, I missed the point. Namely, writing again. I'd stopped. Grad school and the expectations that something great was going to happen (i.e., fall in my broken pelvis lap) just because I successfully defended a thesis really kicked my ass. I was drained, and, worse, I'd grown to hate--and I mean fucking hate--what I needed to love.
There are all these successful writers you read, hear about, who say the same damn thing: gotta sit your ass in the chair every day. Which is nice in theory. Except when you have a chronic pain, progressing condition stemming from a motorcycle accident that leaves you in a need of a hip replacement at 40, a litany of mental health...issues...and a kid in a house with a lot of stairs. And, most importantly, you hate what you are supposed to do once you sit in that chair. But again, missed the point.
I can't do the 8 hours, 9 - 5 in a chair, writing. It reminds me too much of a...job. But when I tailored all that advice to my own skill set, I found it wasn't hard to write daily, and better yet, I started to enjoy doing it again. No, this isn't a craft, this blogging. It's mostly stream of conscious, a phrase which should send most running for the hills, most of the time. Except that I seem to have a found a chord that works for me, which is what this has been all about. Getting my name out there. And learning to love what I want to do with my life again. I've come to view this blog as mental stretching and cardio before the heavy weightlifting of short stories and novels, and I think it's working because I've had more short stories taken this year than all others combined, both my novels are represented, and I'm feeling a little...hopeful.
So, yeah, in the middle of Burning Man last week, while others tapped into the collective energy and scrap metal dioramas of the playa, we topped 30K. Thanks for that. Now I've gotta go to my doctor and see what we can do about this hip...
Labels: failure, fantasy football, giving up, hip replacement, hope, writing