Hey Vulnerability…You up?
It is a habit of mine to get caught up in the idea of production and performance.
Those things tend to have measurable results.
I carry them out often for the sake of others, because if I can provide something that is useful, then there is a good chance that they will think I am useful, too.
Good intentions build upon themselves, their layers clouding my vision from the baseline necessity: That I am here to stay in touch with myself. I am here for creation, for…“art.” I am not here to impress.
I do not claim to know the meaning of being an artist; I certainly can’t say with any confidence that I am one. It is simply in going off the belief that we are all harboring inner artists that keeps me with faith for myself.
I do not attach to the notion of being an artist some ill-based idea of cigarettes and strife and striped shirts topped with cool hair. When I say “artist,” all I mean is that I want to be a person who creates unhindered…
Unhindered by my own self, mainly.
I want to create not for consumption nor recognition, but for the safety and comfort that (I hope) will arise in revealing myself to myself and others through continuous acts of vulnerability.
The RoadWritten project is so that I can stay somewhat accountable. To prove to you and to me that I am willing to show the inner faults and (often embarrassing) workings of this heavily drifting brain.
Reviewing my recent posts, it seems that already my recent writing has lapsed into logic rather than exposure.
I have fooled myself into thinking that if I offer well-thought and well-researched “content,” we will all forget how my heart and I have meanwhile stepped discreetly into a corner, whistling softly and hoping that nobody notices I am avoiding (again) any display of weakness.
Information is so much easier than heart, than insecurity. And then there’s the question of how does one even do that? Show oneself to be vulnerable? I can’t wrap my arms around that notion. Can you? Could you tell me please?
In truth, I have been feeling rather battered of late. New York happened. Location changes happened. Drinking happened…
I try to hide the trials of emotional tumult within the folds of a notion that their disclosure would simply bore others. Yet the whole point is that I am not here for you (though I’m ridiculously happy you’re here).
What’s the Point?
Less than to entertain, I am here to lean into the discomfort of exposing the various things I find along my route to becoming a paid writer. That means the mental and behavioral tricks I learn to bolster progress, but also the self-doubt, lethargy, antipathy, etc…
I am here with the hope that the discomfort reaches us both, and in doing so gives us motivation toward something different.
The go-getter Me has been difficult to find when I sit down to work. I falter in my morning routine, but remain loyal to my morning journal and meditation (except for the two days last week when I just effing forgot after having done it for 20 days of straight). I lose hours to half-hearted work and know that if nothing else, at least I usually force myself to stay seated at the desk.
I want to attempt to write only things that might help or inspire others, but there is a voice here telling me that I can only do so through honesty in disclosing all the bad stuff, too.
So this is my attempt at that…
(are you still reading?)
Maybe it’s that since November, I have lived in ten different cities and slept in 24 different beds. This was part so that I could earn money from my LA bungalow, part to stand at Standing Rock, part to see old friends, part holidays, and part blatant vagrancy.
(Aunt Meg, Richard, Standing Rock, Tyler, Tosi, Mom & Dad, Chris & Elizabeth, John & Amanda, Foster, Isaac, Adam, John, Lauren & Nick, Stacie, Jonny, and Jolene…THANK YOU.)
Maybe I’m just afraid of the implications of starting a new career from scratch. If I’m moving around so much, I have built-in excuses to avoid routine.
At any rate, I’m getting back on track. After I get done in Los Angeles shooting my forthcoming Indiegogo campaign, that is (book publication cometh!).
But until then, I’ve gotten myself a writing accountability partner (don’t let me down Charlie…or else) and my first send-off was due today. By the end of the month, my book will be sent off to its first editor (and oh will there be many more after that!).
Otherwise, my overall goals have been restructured slightly:
Book published by July 2017
1 short story diversely submitted for publication per month
2 Blog posts per week
First podcast episode released by March 1st, 2017
And until then, you know, Write.
Well guys, there you have it. I don’t know what to ask you now because I’m surprised if you’ve gotten this far, but as ever, I’d love to hear your thoughts on anything, so leave a comment!
24 different beds… but the same pillow, yes? I cannot for the life of me imagine 24 different pillows… or have you just built up an immunity to all the different pillows? Even the round ones with the button in the middle? If not, then that could explain a lot.
Oh my, I wish i could say yes…but the answer is a resounding No. 🙁 How wonderful it would have been had I been in possession of my beloved memory foam contour pillow! All the travel has certainly made me realize the importance of the perfect pillow, but perhaps I am more immune than most to variation. When I can’t find an acceptable substitute, my memory foam neck pillow works well.
I know, I know. Ridiculous.
nothing you write could possibly be boring 🙂
weeeee! I read this in bed this morning and just wanted to stay under the sheets grinning and blushing 😀
you are a very diligent one, indeed. Much admiration.
Ah shucks, thanks! It’s nice to read things like this *especially* on days like today when I don’t feel diligent at all 🙂
20211125 0242 and … on to the next one….