My first blog for the first writers community I have ever been a part of. I blogged in college, a chronicle of my senior year and post-college plans. It was fun as hell, and it feels more familiar the more I type. Is anyone actually reading this? I do believe some of the appeal of me doing this is self-gratification. I will go to bed tonight justifying this entry as my "writing" quota for the day. And it will be. See, I'm already doing it!
It's really hard to muster the cojones to write, to create that opus I've been dreaming about since I was a teenager and had the first desire for greatness that now lurks in the back of my brain. I take it out and dust it off every now and then, and as the days pass it gets harder and harder to force myself to write something that "makes a difference, has an impact, or is worthy of others reading it." Achieving greatness... not so easy. But nothing worth having ever is. Truth be told, I am half scared out of my mind to be successful, paranoid to have others reading something that came out of my brain, and lately just want to eek something out, hit pay dirt, and not worry about rising gas prices anymore. Or the expensive cost-of-living that I took for granted for the first 21 years of my life. I do believe my driving force will be a mantra I repeat over and over: I need to eat. I need to eat. So I will write.
I don't even really want to be great, or mad famous. I loathe People magazine, paparazzi, and being photographed. I only need enough money to pay my bills and save for when I'm old and wrinkly. So the only way I will trudge on and eventually succeed is if I make this about personal accomplishment, and forget all that other crap. I need to write for me. I'm still learning how to do that.