The About page is usually one of the first read when finding a new blog. Perhaps that’s why I find it so damned hard to write. It feels like a lot of pressure to convey your words into a few, concise paragraphs. To convey what  you’re thinking, feeling – what the purpose of your writing is…or if you have one at all even. In the end, I think any writer simply wants to write, to write and get out all the idiosyncrasies or thoughts inhabiting their minds.

Since perfect doesn’t exist, certainly not for me, I won’t (continue to) torture myself with writing this the “right” way. Rather, just as author Stieg Larson‘s title book character Lisbeth Salander begin writing her story to the point and without frills (in The Girl Who Kicked The Hornet’s Nest), so will I simply write from the beginning.

I am a thirty-something “occupying” a full-time career that leaves me unsatisfied and empty. I really feel this is a key point in my unhappiness but I know others will beg to differ that it’s not about career. I however will counter “why is it so bad to want to do something you love and look forward to waking up to?” Naive. Maybe. Yes. I have no real sense of who I am or what I want in life. Needless to say, not knowing these things makes it incredibly hard to focus and make changes in life!

I think I want to write; be a writer. Yes, you are thinking: “Well, anyone can be a writer – just write!” Right? Right. But it’s not that simple (to me anyways). I want to write like, write for life; as a full-time job with financial security – and creative security. To be allowed to be me and do what I feel I am capable of doing.

How. damn. selfish. I know. Of course, it’s selfish! After all, who doesn’t/wouldn’t want to do what they want in life? Everyone wants to do as they please, but the world doesn’t work that way…at least not for most people. (It might argued that many people do get to do what they love every single day and make a fortune or at least live happily – or so says Donald Trump – “Do what you love and you’ll never work a day in your life”). Too unrealistic?

Is it so bad that I want to be one of those people then that do what they love and look forward to each beautiful day?

Is it?

Apparently it is to the literary agents who have told me my “work is insightful and interesting… BUT you lack a platform – after all you don’t have a celebrity status, published work, a blog with a trillion thousand hits…” (okay slight exaggeration, but I’m sure that’s what they want). They don’t care (and why should they).

But, NO Mr./Mrs. LA, I do not think you need all that. I think that viewpoint is very limiting and frankly very narrow-minded of you*.

I can write. I will write. I am trying to write. Albeit not fast enough, with no book deal or even faintest idea of what to write.

I really want the balls to to say here: “I will be a successful writer and get to live the life I want!”*


Except, that would be so fake, so unrealistic and so not me.

*…as much as I want to believe that and be all positive, gunh-ho, “I got this!” uber-chick – I’m not sure I actually really believe it. (Actually, I may have just peed my pants a little typing it out). However, according to “The Secret” and “The Law of Attraction” and all that hokey stuff – putting it out there to the Universe is supposed to help you attract what you want.

Of course, it doesn’t really work if your skeptical. So, clearly, I don’t have a chance.



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