Now that I’ve stepped through this door, broken this threshold, and entered The Writing Life, I simply must stay. I must keep writing no matter how maddening it can be.
But it is maddening putting these words out here and wondering if, hoping that they will be what somebody needs.
The truth is that I don’t know anyone else quite like me, but my brain is the only one I know to write from.
And so I pull these truths, these stories, these musings out of me and put them out here for…well, for someone…
I am touched by the people who read regularly. There are people I see in-person that tell me they’re reading. And they tell me it is good. And I am so grateful.
But I do get discouraged because those doubting voices try to mess with me and say that something can be good but still not meet a real need.
I don’t want to be a good writer.
Lots of people can write well even with nothing to say.
I want to say something.
But I don’t just want to say something, I want to say something that somebody needs.
And while I get lots of “attaways” from people, I still wonder if I’m meeting a need.
Of course, that itself is a rabbit hole of madness to wonder because how can I even know? How can I possibly measure?
And what if simply reading what is on my heart meets a need all on its own? Maybe, just maybe, the regular readers are having a need met by reading and the reality of them sticking around should clue me in to their satisfaction. Just maybe.
But no, I’m far too mad to let that be enough.
I want more notoriety. Somehow I reason that I will know my writing is needed if I get noticed by more and more and more people.
I’m not sure how or when the desire to be noticed became so strong in me.
Only this…I get jealous when I see a clever post from someone else get shared and reshared around the Interwebs. And I think I write clever things and I wonder why my links aren’t flying through cyberspace.
And it sounds so silly to admit this petty jealousy.
I am petty indeed.
And it is maddening to be so petty.
And I know in my brain that this all takes time and I can’t expect to go from obscurity to notoriety in 10 silly months.
I know, I know, I know…
But the madness is that I hoped I would be the exception. Of course I know I can’t expect overnight success, but I wanted it anyway.
So petty.
This Writing Life messes with me like that. It draws from my deepest, wisest and best while simultaneously exposing my pettiest, silliest, and worst.
So maddening.
But I refuse to let the worst in me be an excuse to squelch my voice. I’m going to keep writing from this brain, this heart and I’m going to keep hoping that somehow, sometime, something of it will be needed.
The only thing more maddening than this Writing Life would be if I quit. Luckily, I’m just crazy enough to stick with it.





