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Writer's Ramblings.

Updated on January 9, 2015

Screams and Dreams.

It's weird when you call yourself a writer.
It's not just an occupation, it's something you identify with, something you define yourself with.
Being a writer means I can come up with stories, characters, whole worlds, and shape them into a document using nothing but the words that come to mind.
Assuming I can even come up with an idea, and I find the motivation to give that idea legs, how do I make it walk?
Do my words make sense? Did I use the right color to paint that setting? Did I give that character the right voice?
Will people understand? Should they understand? Does it even matter if they understand as long as I understand?
I don't know.
It drives me absolutely bonkers.
Sometimes I think I use my short stories to scream for help, sometimes I think I use them to justify my hopes and dreams.
Screams and Dreams.
Ha. That's would I should have called my blogs.
Screams and Dreams.
Not sure how the sports would fit in there... Being a Raiders fan means I'm dreaming that they'll ever do anything but make me want to scream and tear my hair out.
There's nothing that anyone could ever say that would be worse than what I say to myself about my work.
Most people shower me with empty compliments or provide meaningless pieces of advice, as if they look at my work for what it is as opposed to what it is.
If I write a story about a boy who wrestles with his demons, it's because I'm wrestling with my demons, and I think I can cook it into something poetic for the masses to digest.
The ooh's and aww's often outweigh the intended oh's and ah's and I'm not sure how I feel about it.
I believe in my heart of hearts that I have the potential to be a truly outstanding writer.
I think deep down, beneath all the snark and chaos, I have scraped the surface of a goldmine.
It just seems that I'm at my best when I'm at my worst.
When I've been at my lowest points, I've made my best work.
I don't really need a support system.
I don't have much of one anyway in all honesty.
I have a very good relationship with parts of my family, and I appreciate all of the input that they give me, but I'm also one of those stupid people who tries to find a sense of family and belonging with my closest friends.
And the most I get out of most of them is a harmless tease or poke in the chest from time to time.
Being a writer is akin to being some unemployed brat who just sits around and wastes time instead of being an adult.
It's odd that people I should care about, who should care about me would shoot down my dreams, or condescend to me instead of lifting me onto their shoulders and helping me achieve what I believe I can achieve.

"We can be the bands we want to be"
"I found a way, to steal the sun from the sky"
"To the timid and hesitating, everything is impossible because it seems so"
"It's kindof fun to do the impossible"
"Cheesy, self-motivating, inspirational bullshit that looks good on paper and sounds stupid out loud"

That last one was mine, you can have it.
I guess all there is to it is to do it.
If I believe I can be a writer who means something to someone, I just have to be the writer who means something to himself.
See? I'm already starting with the cheesy bullshit.
Thanks for reading.


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