I'm On a Roll Now, Folks!

The next article has been published to Suite101. I'm very interested in reader feedback- as this issue I have presented may spark some interesting conversation.  

Go have a read and let me know what you think. Brace yourself because the secret's out:

Attention is to Women What Sex is to Men

There is a Dark Side

Writing is art. You can't tell me that Kurt Vonnegut, Joseph Heller, Faulkner and Hemingway weren't true artists in every sense of the word. These guys, and many other writers, are regarded as heroes. They inspire and evoke a complete spectrum of emotions through their written words.


However, there is a sad truth that I have recently come to realize all too intimately; art is painful. Artists suffer to create, because you have to show emotion to evoke emotion. The creation is a reflection of the artists soul; put on display for the whole world to see. This is no small thing. Imagine taking all of your thoughts, feelings, emotions, secrets, successes, failures, aspirations, and experiences and laying them out for all to see... and judge.

I never considered myself an artist, like, at all. My mom and little brother absorbed all of the artistic talent that happened to be available in our particular gene pool. Creativity? Forget it; I had none. What did I do? I wrote a few stories and some general musings on life. In what crazy reality does that translate to art?

Then I wrote my essay for Glamour. I turned myself completely inside out and ripped apart the dark, deserted recesses of my memory. I took everything, and I do mean everything, that I found there and I shaped it into a creation that I believed to be the best reflection of me, my voice, and my story. After four months of creating this piece, with one simple click of the mouse, it was off. It traveled to the hands of people that are complete strangers. And these strangers will decide if my creation, the fragile product of all my soul-rummaging measures up to their standards. My humble offering will be scrutinized and judged.

Needless to say, after writing that essay I have felt completely deflated. I have been emotionally raw and exposed. It may not make sense, but that feeling of immersing all of yourself into something of your own creation to be shared with the outside world is terrifying in the most satisfying way.

Of course I care if people don't like it. No one wants to give their best efforts and turn out to be terrible. But when I know I've written something that is truly a reflection of myself and articulates my thoughts and my intentions with complete precision, I am satisfied. I am peaceful. And, incidentally, I am also very tired. 

I have visited some very dark places in my mind and my memories to create some of my work. It is hard to come back from those places sometimes and remind yourself that everything is going to be OK, and writing about painful emotions will make the piece more vulnerable and relatable. Sometimes it's hard to return to the real world. I guess that's why so many writers lose their minds (ahem... Hemingway). And I'm not really sure if Vonnegut was completely right in the head at any point in his life; but I digress. 

So I guess I was wrong about the artistic share of the genetic material. It just took me a little bit longer to discover it. I just never entertained the idea that there could be a tortured artist side of me. I never thought I was that deep. It's funny what you can find out about yourself when you develop the bravery to actually look.   

It's Official, I've Been Published!

My first online article has been published! This is a very exciting day for me.

That's your cue to go read it!

Enjoy!!!

A Sign, Perhaps?

A fellow blogger posted the other day that we are merely one month away from November. This is not a random statement of the obvious or another "OMG-I-can't-believe-it's-almost-the-holiday-season" rant. What Sarah Thomas so eloquently reminded me of was that we are currently less than 30 days away from NaNoWriMo; which most of you don't know means National Novel Writing Month. Basically this means any writer that signs up has 30 days to write 50,000 words. Let me give you all a moment to process that statement while I fall asleep on my keyboard just thinking about it...

And we're back! You read that right, folks: 50,000 words in only 30 days. Crazy, right? But is any writer totally devoid of crazy? I may not be a novel writer but I'm actually considering taking on this challenge. I can use this as an opportunity to really dig into my non fiction manuscript while commiserating with all the other over-caffeinated, sleep-deprived, quasi-homicidal writers across the country. Am I sounding more and more insane by the second? Maybe I'm still high off the Raven's big win today and chicken wings and beer, but this seems like a great idea.

Stop laughing at me for a second... I don't truly believe that I will reach the 50,000 word finish line (but hey, anything is possible, right?) and even if I only write 5,000 words it will be 5,000 more than I had on November 1st. I think this is the fire under my butt that I needed. So now I have to figure out how to work at the bar, keep writing my articles for the online magazine, participate in family functions (that whole Thanksgiving thing), eat, sleep, keep up with Dexter and Project Runway, and write 50,000 words.

I just fell asleep on my keyboard again...

I suppose I should get my naps in now before I have to give up sleep for a whole month. Does anyone know of any Starbucks that are open 24 hours?

So thank you, Sarah for giving me a sign from the Blogging Universe that I need to kick up my game if I'm gonna play in the Big Leagues.