This is just a little gripe, a horrible bullshit whiny nancy move and I probably shouldn't even post it but I'm in desperate need of validations right now: lately I've been pissed as shit at all the liars out there that put fantasies into my head. Confidence in my abilities does not look good on me. It's so much easier to drag through life knowing I suck at everything than it is to keep putting effort into dreams and getting shot down.
I mean, I'm going to keep on trying to get paid to write. I won't stop. But you know those people out there that say 'you have to believe you can do it or you never will' and all those fucking false, uppity, horsefeathery ideas that they drip into the ears of failures so they'll blame their mindset instead of their ability? I love what they're trying to do here, but sometimes a little honesty would be nice. "You don't have the skill or likability to do this professionally, Ross. Don't give up. Just face reality: most people are better at this than you are."
But I can't have any illusions here, as if I was some sort of scribbling savant shouldering a muse. If I could pick a muse, it would probably be Calliope and that's not just because I was Calliope in the eighth grade school play which I totally co-wrote, by the way. We sang I love I love my Mount Olympian girls to Calendar Girl and my line was, "Calliope: her good guys always win" and then I narrated the stories of Theseus slaying the evil Medusa where Theseus was an aspiring hairdresser, and of Perseus and the Minotaur where Perseus was a pizza delivery guy, and therefore an expert on topography and the psychology of space. It was so much easier to get your shit into the world in eighth grade. In eighth grade I was an epic, comedic genius.
But now, apparently, I am too "edgy." I lack "professional" knowledge of a topic (how much more professional can you get to write about cult classics than working at a fucking video store and rating like 4,000 movies on Netflix? Really? You want some pap smear with a film degree? Fucking bogus). That's the big thing, really. I lack the professionalism, experience, background,
Why don't they just say they don't like my writing? Dicks. I understand that my business writing skills are bullshit. I know. I'm too self-referential and when I eliminate first-person it sounds stiff and elitist and fuck.
There are people out there who believed in me and asked me write things for them, and I've fucked up every single one of those. I would lose sleep over it. Friends need band bios, or website copywriting, they give me ideas for short stories and they're so inspirational and wonderful for trusting me and my ability to promote and portray something so important to them. And I'll agree and get excited and sit down to write, because I know that this time I fucking got this. I'm hopeful, confident that I'll pull something sparkly and whimsical and excellent. I know I will, because someone I care about trusted me to do it.
I'll start typing and by word three it's just a fucking document wasteland, and eventually becomes some variation of, "You goddamn useless piece of shit, why can't you just write like all of the normal people in the world? Get it done. You can do this. If Stephanie Meyer can write a series of books, you can write a band bio. People love your writing. You had a fan club. Why are you such a fucking cumbucket of spider legs and suck, you fat, worthless, disgusting thing?" Then I cry, smack myself around. Sit in the bathroom and pull my hair like a bratty child without candy, do a red-faced mirror pep talk to snap out of it and notice how horrible the lighting is in that bathroom, and then I cry again because who could ever love someone so self-loathing?
Shit, this is depressing. I should not post this, but I have to. Otherwise I'm going to just stare at the draft every day and I'll never resolve anything. I need to just let the internet deal with my incompetence because I am not emotionally capable of handling it on my own. And this blog was always about stories and honesty. Breathe.
This post began as a pledge letter for work. I was drafting a letter and it mutated into a blog post about how I have writers block unless I'm writing about me. Do you see what I mean?