Since the dawn of the internet, I’ve been infatuated with learning everything there is to know. Yes, I’m quite aware that the human brain can only support so much data, but there’s tons of old song lyrics I can delete to make space for such things, not to mention quotes from old episodes of Fraggle Rock. The possibilities are endless whether we, as human beings, are as well. We are finite. Grab a shovel.
I’ve been a professional writer for over fifteen years now, but I seem to love it less and less. It has a lot to do with how the community of writers has gone from an enjoyable lot to more of horde of extremist critics chomping at the bit to make your life a living hell. Also, since the most uneducated and inexperienced of us now have a voice because of social media, this criticism rarely comes in professional form. No, what simply could be a bashing of your latest work often results with a proper scolding of your personal character, family life, and whether or not you’re someone who enjoys a good brussel sprout. Yes, they’ll pick you apart and love every single minute of it. Modern society loves a good roasting at someone else’s expense.
Due to this, I find myself wanting to do other things besides my intended purpose on this planet. Rather than write, I’ve been playing guitar, co-hosting podcasts, and recording a large chunk of my life for YouTube videos. Each of these activities are something I used to do for fun, but my subconscious perfectionist ego wants me to excel and succeed as though they’re a source of income or career choice. They’re fucking not.
I’ve wanted to play guitar since I was a kid and I’ve learned the basics over the years. I can play Wagon Wheel around a campfire like the best of them like I’m some kind of lonely frat boy trying to impress a strange piece of ass. That’s not me at all. Besides, my choice of ass was impressed by who I am as a person years ago. No sense in impressing her more. There’s only so much impressing a woman can endure before caving in and seeking out a source of less impression. Narcissism is what they call it, and even though I’ve been accused of being one a few thousand times, I’m not. I just love and want to be loved in return. Simple right? Besides, I’ve written dozens of songs and had four of them recorded by a band and registered with ASCAP. It didn’t make me a damn penny. Total waste of my time, although I did cry a lot the first time I heard one of my songs performed live. I’ll remember that forever.
Co-hosting the American Justice Podcast was an exceptionally enjoyable time and a wonderful way to assist a cause I care for deeply. However, after the first season ended and we moved on to other subjects, I began to lose interest quickly. It’s difficult for me to care when I lose passion for something. Also, the Butterflies Make Me Angry podcast never got the love it deserved. We were reading chapters of indie author books that most people wouldn’t have heard about otherwise as a way to spread the word. Even though I’d tag the author in the post, they rarely interacted. This was disheartening but typical.
Finally, as much as I love photography and videography, the last thing I have the need is to be a regular content creator for YouTube. I play classic 80’s games on my arcade machines, but I don’t need to stream every game I play. Also, I don’t have time for all the editing and uploading required to have a successful channel. Finally, I can’t be intentionally annoying enough to gain a following. I HATE the fucking repeated and overused sound effects in most YouTube videos. My son watches this shit like it’s his job and I want to push myself down the stairs when I hear those familiar voices of his ‘idols’.
So, after an entire year of procrastinating, I guess I’ll get off my literary ass and do what I was meant to do. I’ll write, but I’m not writing anything of any significance until after the first of the year. I already have two short stories being released in the first half of the year in some impressive anthologies as well as helping to organize Texas Author Con 2023. Also, I’d really like to finish writing Home Sweet Home, Screaming of the Trees, and the Starving Zoe pseudo sequel Redemption Hymn. I can’t very well do all of that if I’m pretending to be a musician, a radio host, and a YouTube poon. All things in moderation, and only when it’s fun. As an artist, you cannot serve multiple masters. Pick one and do it well. I AM a fucking writer; it just took the words of another fellow artist to remind me. That’s another story for another time.
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