So I wrote that post called Don’t Call Me Author for a friend’s blog way back when and I think it says something like Call Me Writer Instead of Author but I sometimes say shit that just doesn’t make sense.
They say you should never start a blog with so.
There was this Facebook status (if I was a real blogger I’d go find it and embed it but I’m lazy, also I wouldn’t start the blog with so) that said something about I just wanted to be a normal person and every man ever on my friends list flipped out and said I could never be normal and that’s why they loved me so much. Now I have been known to strike against the word normal because what is normal and that is not even a real thing. But the real truth of my life is this: (when I am not in psychosis) I am pretty fucking normal.
Last night my friend and I were watching Supernatural and he was like what is that devil sign thing?
The star? I ask him.
Yeah but there is a name. I think I read somewhere that it was originally a Christian symbol but that it somehow got morphed into something negative. Shit, what is it called. Starts with a P.
Pentagon? I said with the straightest fucking face I have ever worn in my entire life.
He gave me this look where the eyes glass over immediately from the disbelief of the brain that you really just said something that fucking stupid.
I didn’t stop laughing for fifteen minutes.
Pentagram, he says.
Yeah. Wow. Douchey moment.
If you wouldn’t have said Pentagon, I would have never thought Pentagram, though.
I think we high-fived or something equally douchey.
Though I pride myself on intelligence and I do exercise my ability to use my brain to do what I do, I do say stupid shit. All the fucking time. And granted most of the time when this happens I am with my guy friends who happen to have IQs way higher than mine, and granted if you asked me what is the name of a girl I know that is more intelligent than me I might draw a blank, the point is that I say really ditzy shit and I have a lot of shoes and fashion is one of my secret passions and I like YA books and I watch The Vampire Diaries and I like the idea of actually falling in love again someday and to a logical extent, I do care what my best friends think of me even if they think I don’t.
I’ll tell you what kind of person I’m not.
I don’t drink coffee to wake myself up. I drink coffee because I like how it tastes, and I like how it tastes because I’m a snob about it and I spend a lot of fucking money on coffee. I don’t hate all sports. I love football. I used to watch it with my brother. I am not at war with the universe. I have friends that I do believe understand me and I go to bars and play pool and talk about regular shit and sometimes we do discuss the serious ideas of society that do matter, but sometimes we just talk about sex. I do not write tired. I think Bruce Mau is a genius and agree with most of his Incomplete Manifesto for Growth but that one about staying up late because strange amazing things happen when you’ve taken it too far; I do not do that. Though I do have a serious mental illness that causes an extreme case of insomnia, I sleep more than you think I do. When I’m tired, I sleep. When I fall into psychosis, I sleep. I take naps. I find them therapeutic as I live with hallucinations and anxiety that comes from overanalyzation of a reality that is, in my perception, skewed by Paranoid Schizophrenia. I do not ever, under any circumstances, write when I’m tired. It is my opinion that productivity comes from a healthy, rested mind and I don’t believe in 1. stressing yourself out to death or 2. writing shit just to get count. I don’t write anything I believe is shit. If literary diarrhea is coming out of my brain, I stop, and I save the file onto my desktop and I name it The Shittiest Book Ever like I did that one time.
That is not a joke.
That brings me to my last point that is probably going to be the most intense assholery that has ever come out of my mouth.
I am not ashamed of said quality content that comes out of my brain. I have been known to have anxiety, like a lot of writers, about whether people will like what I write but that is not because I’m a shitty writer.
I am a good writer. I’m sorry. I know that’s a dick move and just feeds into the narcissistic bullshit that a lot of us literary writers are fighting against in our current culture but if I said it wasn’t true I would be lying. I am not good at being corporate and sometimes I get really overwhelmed by the responsibility and pressure of an executive position in a non-profit organization and I really suck at cleaning my house at appropriate intervals, but if I was to fail at all of that, I would still have writing. I can do it. Call it a gift. Call it experience. Call it whatever you want but writing is my thing. I love Paper Souls, as a piece of literature. I am very proud of it every single day of my life. I am proud of everything I’ve written including Violet Midnight which has some really shitty reviews.
I do not worry that people will like my writing because I’m a shitty writer. I worry about it because my brain doesn’t think on the same wavelengths as other people and even other writers. I leave shit out. I jump around. I go backwards. For fuck’s sake I left quotation marks out of my last book. I do this shit on purpose because that’s how my life is. It is upside down and inside out and if I can figure it out, then you sure as fuck can too.
I didn’t tell someone who was very special to me at the time that I was going to quit writing because I sucked at it. I do not suck at it. I told this person this thing, truly believing it myself, because I was really unhappy and we just don’t want to do things that make us happy when we are unhappy. It’s the epitome of reverse psychology in our brains. We have to trick ourselves to do things.
Writers, still, are known as crazy and unstable and self-conscious and unreliable and insomniacs and broken, and I am honestly in tears at this thought because I don’t think that’s fair. I have journeyed so far and so hard to be able to live without that bullshit you place on me. That’s not me at all. Don’t tell me you are the only one who gets me; don’t tell me that I’m broken. I’m not broken. I just want to be happy. I don’t want to fight your war with yourself. Please do not label me with your idealistic views of what it was like to be Hunter S. Thompson.
Hunter S. Thompson fucking killed himself.