Soundtrack: Five Finger Death Punch: Champagne
(*yes I am aware that the phrase is really “curb” my…intentional choice of words here)
I enjoy writing. My confidence is improving and the edits are slightly less brutal with a lot of recent studying and practice. This study, this practice, has led me to create this blog space so that I could cover a variety of topics. Sometimes I need to process. These entries allow me to get the jumbled mess of thoughts and feelings deep within my mind out into the world. Give them life. This process allows me the ability to methodically (as you would process any draft) reorganize, add and omit, and hear or see what was hiding. Putting it out there also allows me to say, “I am not afraid,” in some instances. Get out of my closet! (I had a mental image of kicking some clutter out of a closet and a deep bellowing voice down a hallway.) I think we each have some way of dealing with it; from singing, to writing, to making elaborate paintings or sketches.
Sometimes, however, I do get frustrated. Hey, I am being honest. While I do this for me, it is nice to see a post read – even better, liked – and even better yet, shared. The feeling, I think, is a sense of affirmation. A digital “I get you,” or perhaps, “wow.” But… there is always a but. But… I find it interesting what gets looked at and what doesn’t. I am aware that there are a lot of competing factors such as Facebook algorithms, the time of day combined with other’s desires to read, countless other people sharing works and then combinations of all of those for each person. Once in a while, I think of the things I took time to craft which only got a handful of views. And yet, in my timeline, there are countless memes of a lady and a cat eating at a table with some sarcastic caption. And that gets shared, over and over, hundreds of times (if not much more). I still don’t know what that d@m* cat is from.
I am not going to write about kitties or puppies, pick hot topics like abortion, gender fluidity, or same-sex marriage, just to get attention, clicks, or traffic. If I visit TikTok, (guilty pleasure) I seem to come across one of only a few categories that are trending (someone’s rights, cosplay, a recipe, or storytime, which now has a trend of “like for part 10…”). Maybe that is the missing piece – I need to dress in a costume and take a pic of myself. Then, take that segment and diving into a gillion parts. I mean, if one of those topics comes up in my writing, it is because I have a legit thought on the topic. Yes the frustration, for me, is real. Once in a while, I would like to have that trending content. I would like to make a point that is well-assembled, insightful, inspiring, or causes a shift in someone’s mind. The topic might be life, love, or perhaps the pursuit of happiness. A working mom or dad. A normal person who works a normal job. Not some gruesome headline, shocking picture, or something unkind written for the sake of a bold (and narrow) point. Something unkind written for only for the clicks.
Some of the topics that I write about are difficult. The year turnaround was the hardest thing that I had written to date. Only followed by grief zones. “The year” also had the most views of all time, for my thus far short-lived blog, and the most views in one day. This leads to the conclusion that people want a shock. They like nitty-gritty and life-wrenching stories. Awe-factor. There is a reason that Dr. Pimple Popper has 3.7mm followers. There’s a reason that people rubber-neck when driving by a wreck or horrific scene. Even after a glimpse or shutter, we look again. The Roman Colosseum played on these animalistic desires with great success. So, this makes me think about what my message is. My desire to write and the purpose of the material that I publish. My identity in writing.
I do this because I like it. I enjoy using words to paint mental pictures and perhaps, if I am lucky, making someone’s day. I write in hopes of fulfilling a life-long dream: to be published. It may be as a reward, or sense of accomplishment, but never-the-less, it’s a real desire. I don’t have false ambitions of being rich from it. I don’t expect people to line up for my autograph. I do hope that every so often, someone reading my work finds a eureka within themselves. A person saying to themself, “Wow, I can…” and feel inspired. I imagine a frown curling so slightly to a smile. Someone out there, somewhere, has a better day because of my writing. That is my dream. Thank you for imagining with me. What is your dream? Comment below if you so desire. I would love to share in the moment. Your moment.
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