I wonder if other writers, famous or not, feel the same as me. I wonder if they wish they were something else besides a writer. I wonder if they fought it, tooth and nail, like I do. No matter how hard I try, I end up back to the pen, or they keyboard in this case but whatever. I have been trying not to be a writer ever since I was a kid.
Have you ever had a calling, but you didn’t want that one? As if life presents opportunities in choices like,
“Would you like to be a doctor?”
“No, not that one, what else you got?”
“How about a lawyer?”
“Hmm…too much school, anything else?”
“How about a writer?”
“Psshh, you were closer with lawyer, next!”
Honestly, you would think that I come from money with how picky I’ve been with my life choices. In case you didn’t pick up on that, I definitely don’t come from money. Yet somehow, I refuse to do the things that I am at least decent at. Ever since elementary school my teachers have told me that writing was my thing. Don’t get me wrong, I’m with you, I don’t know what they see in my “talent” because I pretty much hate every sentence I jot down. Actually that’s not true, I’ve written some great, albeit meaningless, one liners. For Example:
Picture a room, an American man tied to a chair, beaten up and bloody, clothes tattered, and eyes widened with fear. The African crime boss, finely dressed in a pin striped suit, responds calmly to the tied up man’s pleas for another chance.
“Oh no white man, the time for forgiveness has passed. I shall now rid you of your Earthly burdens. *Picks up gun* Consider this, *Cocks gun* a favor.”
Picture that as a movie scene and it should bring a smirk to your face. If it doesn’t… well fk you, I like that shit.
Anyways, When I tell you that I’ve tried my hardest not to write, I mean it. I’m not that well read, on purpose. I’m not published anywhere, completely for the lack of trying. I don’t believe I’ve ever sent a single writing submission, but believe me, I somehow find the nerve to get bitter about others being published. Right? Who the hell is this guy?
Ready for the kicker? Guess what I’m about to get my master’s degree in. Yup, English. Why? Because within 2 weeks of being honorably discharged from America’s fine Navy, I was enrolled full time in school and they told me that I need a plan, and to pick a major to start. Without thinking I said, “I guess English.” After my associates I figured, well I might as well stick with English for my BA since I have credits towards it. The same thought process followed me through the grad school application. Now I sit, less than 4 months until school is out and I haven’t the slightest clue what to do with myself. I’ve been writing a memoir, or attempting to, over the last few months for my final project in school and other than that, let me tell you the idiot thing that I just got myself into. I started an online business. One of those T shirt selling websites. I’m not judging the idea, and I’ve heard of some people making a living off of it, but for me, man is it a leap. I don’t know anything about Photoshop to make designs to put on shirts. I have one design, of my store logo that I placed on a few different types of shirts and I tried to get some traction through Reddit because I saw someone do that on YouTube. 10 minutes later…I got banned from Reddit with the message calling me, what was the exact word they used in the email? Oh yes, a shithead.
A few hours have passed since then and I’ve been online, searching for any job that isn’t related to writing, or labor, or under 50 grand a year, or requires much experience, or… You get the message. Nothing really stands out to me and whenever I hit these lows, and believe me, I’ve left some supplies down here because of how often I visit, I find that I always end up writing something. As you can see, this is my first blog post, but what you don’t see is that it’s actually not. I’ve had this .com for 6 months or so and I’ve written a few times, but that delete button keeps calling me. So hopefully you have enjoyed this because I’m sure it won’t be long before I don’t, and then decide that I’m not a writer anymore! Fk….I’m doomed to be a writer