A Thought On Bothering

 For as long as I can remember, I've wanted to be an author. I love storytelling. The appeal of sharing thoughts in a meaningful way with strangers is as much of an appetizing trait as it is a horrifying one. The creation of entire worlds, intricate designs and people, is nothing short of beautiful.

My brother was the first to introduce me to creative writing sometime in the 6th or 7th grade. We're twins, so the ability to communicate information or hobbies to one another was as quickly said and done as breathing. At least in comparison to our other siblings. He was a font of inspiration to me. I remember the stories he built being captivating, even though we were both poor pale novices. He fuels my passion still.

I must have begun trying to write sometime shortly after. 7th grade was when our school system started pushing the "creative" aspect of English class, which I suppose I'm grateful for. Although I still find it funny how a course about writing and literature is called English. It makes sense why it's called that, but it's just silly, y'know? A bit like calling mesoamerican history just Spanish.

Anyway, I wrote a couple short stories and dreamed a couple dreams. Started the long process of perfecting some kind of alabaster monolith of "good writing." Whatever that might mean. Storytelling is weird for so many reasons, but in my mind, it's a pain for two big ones; ability and consistency.

Your ability to actually produce content is in a constant state of hanging off the clothesline. If you cannot create work in a way that people are both drawn to and enjoy, you will not succeed.

Your consistency then, your ability to create more works in that same style time and time again, is even more critical. If you cannot captivate your audience like you did when you first skated onto the ice as a toddler, you will not succeed. 

It's a bit like this. What a cool fucking image.

And it's horrible! And there's probably a whole load of reasons why it is the way it is, but at the moment, I'm just wallowing in the fact that it's horrible. I have no guarantee that anyone will read my work even as I write this. Nobody. Not at all. Even if I came out onto the ice in my nice pants, skates neatly laced, and hair nicely done in a cute little bow. It's something I've had to come to terms with. Not that it's something I've come to terms with recently, but rather something that I ended up coping with a long time ago that still props up occasionally to ask for sugar.

So what do you do about it?

Write For Yourself

What a bullshit response.

Not that I necessarily disagree with it; it's a mantra that I intrinsically relate to, at least on a gut-feeling level of comprehension. It's reasonable enough to be simple. It's straightforward, but that doesn't make it any less bullshit. As a state of reference, writing should, first and foremost, be for yourself. You never know if anyone is gonna read your content. Save for yourself. That's forever. That's a googol. Because when the sun concaves on itself and this planet is reduced to a smouldering pile of pebbles on the inside of God's shoes, nobody is gonna know a damn thing about whatever it is you wrote on the back of that receipt.

That does not mean you shouldn't write for other people. You should be aware that you, the author, should be content with it first, regardless of who it reaches.

Of course, most people don't want to think about this outcome. I don't, nor do I want it to be my work's future. I want to create not just because I have all this weird stuff in my head that I want to release, but because I want to share it with people! What good are these ideas if I cannot feed them to others? If I cannot add to the great lexicon of the universe's most extraordinary works? I don't think I want to be some viral superstar, far from it. But I do want to entertain the world in a way that's both palpable and enticing. Several issues muddle things up, but that isn't the point. 

So, I want to share it with the world while also accepting that it may be forever unknown. That sucks. What else?

Market Your Content

This one is slightly less bullshit. In fact, I'd even be guilty of calling it a good idea! It's pretty much a given that the best way to get your writing out into the stratosphere is to actually put it there. Social media, Twitter, Tumblr, and Blogger; are great ways to get your content onto the internet. Because the internet is where everything is happening, always, all the time.

Posting on social media privately is good because you're getting it out of your head and onto a public space. It's fantastic for note-taking and having an accessible way to organize all of your thoughts. The only issue is that you're posting it privately, hidden away, making it the same as writing notes in your dream journal. The difference is that you can make it public on a whim. There's no need to transcribe work that's already online. All it takes is a single click, a hashtag or two, and suddenly your work becomes a very tangible thing.

But remember: just because it exists doesn't mean anyone will see it. We accepted that fact earlier. But we can make it visible, and that's what marketing is. In the same way you'd peddle a book or a product, you can advertise your work. That is good. Let's do that.

Social Media is a lot like a billboard. It's big, obnoxious, and potentially dangerous.

Marketing is a bit like knocking door-to-door on people's digital doorstep. You'll have a door slammed in your face most of the time, but occasionally someone will leave it open. This is good, and it's far superior to just letting things collect dust in your portfolio. Advertisement is how people accumulate viewers. It'll probably be slow and, in some cases, costly, but it's also full of potential. You've gone from getting 0 new subscribers to potentially 1 or 2. That's progress, and progress is good.

Some Last Thoughts

I can't keep writing this forever. I know I could, but that'd just mean it would float around in my drafts for a million years, and that's precisely what this post is arguing against. So what's my point with this? Why even write it in the first place?

To be honest with you, I have no idea. I just felt like I needed to write it, so I did. 

That's another point I've argued here, I suppose. It's pretty standard (at least in my circles) that you'll heed some advice from others which boils down to "don't think about writing, just write." 

It's decent advice, but I feel like it's missing something. I'm guilty of giving this kind of advice. I don't really think it's thoroughly good, so let me use this opportunity to correct  course a bit.

You should think about your writing. In the same way, you probably shouldn't try pantsing your way through an entire novel, don't just turn your brain off and write nonsense. You should consider what makes an idea exciting or, at the very least, what makes it special to you. Instead of framing it as just writing without a thought in the world, write what you want to write. Talk about what you love, hate, or just think is cool. Don't be afraid to write blog after blog about the passage of migratory bird patterns or the metaphysical implications of a four-dimensional fart. Because that's you. And that's cool.

Fear that nobody will be interested is worse than nobody actually being interested. It's pulling the plug before conception. I don't know everything I want to know. Hell, I don't even know what I want to know yet. But I'm changing and learning and just as excited to explore as I am to create. I know it'll be far from perfect, and I'm certainly aware that I might just be writing into the void. But that's okay.

Because when the sun does explode, I will take satisfaction in the fact that, out of a gazillion works of art on the internet, mine too will be destroyed. 

I did it.