I Have An Addictive Personality

Hello World,
Do you like to play video games? I do. But I don't own an Xbox or a hundred high-tech, 3D, multi-player games. I like small games. Simple games. Flash games you can play for free online.

My favorite is probably Freecell, a more-strategic version of Solitaire, but mostly I like practically every third game posted on www.onemorelevel.com and www.bored.com. At lunch I'll troll their sites, find some weird thing, and just enjoy. The problem is the I also like to play games to wind down in the evening... and ultimately instead of writing stories.

Yeah, I have a problem.

The truth is, I've played hundreds of these dumb 'little' games, and some of them aren't so little. They take hours or even days to 'beat'. Every so often I swear them off for a few weeks, and I genuinely get a crap load of writing done. So why do I go back? Why do I keep telling myself, "As soon as I beat this level... as soon as I finish this one game... as soon as I break my record... as soon as, as soon as, as soon as..."

I'm pretty sure my addictive personality likes the immediate feeling of success. Writing stories certainly doesn't do that. Writing rarely takes hours. Instead, it takes days and weeks and months and even years. And what's worse is that when I'm done, I then have that basic problem of the entire world ignoring my accomplishment.

And we authors understand why you do this. We really do. Reading takes time. And reading something a friend wrote is a chore. It's like homework! And what do you do if it sucks? God help you to avoid THAT awkward conversation. But here's the thing, whether we suck at writing or not, without your assistance, we amount to nothing. The reason we write is to share, nothing less.

But that ultimately relates to my biggest addiction of all. You see, when you read my story and say it's great, when you recommend it to a friend, when some stranger actually pays money and then puts a really nice review on amazon... well, there's nothing in this world I'll work harder for than that.

So help a brother out, why don't you world? Start with something short if you're not a big reader, but read something. And be honest if it really does suck. We can't improve if you lie to us. BTW, this story is short, and it's something I'm genuinely proud of. ;-)

[insert plug for comments/followers/etc]

Addictively yours,
-K.

Ps: Yesterday's Writing Results... no new writing, but I did rejoin Duotrope.com (an author's site for finding & tracking submissions) and even found a magazine to which I'd like to submit one of my stories. Did NOT actually submit the story, though.

I Must Be Adopted

Hello World,
I didn't write yesterday b/c I got sidetracked by Thanksgiving. Along with not getting to write about why my job sucks balls (tomorrow's rant?), it also reminded me once again that I most certainly must be adopted. (For the record, I kid... but I really am that different from every relative I know. Read on to see just how different.)

I have a large extended family. There were 68 of us at T-Day yesterday, and the general sentiment was disappointment over the small turnout. We rent out the basement of a church. We have 3 long tables of savory foods & 3 long tables of desserts. We eat in shifts. You get the idea. There are a lot of people there, and I swear to you I spend every Thanksgiving feeling pretty much alone.

This year I decided to wear a fun shirt. (See the pic). Pretty witty, I thought, and pertinent. Plus, I reasoned, it would remind all those cousins of mine that I'm an author, which most continue to forget from year to year. *grrr*

As the day wore on, I kept count of the results. A total of 13 relatives, all above the age of 20, took the time to read the shirt. Exactly two of them got the joke. One was my father. The other was a fellow teacher. And the other 11, you ask? I had to explain it of course, and probably 8 or 9 of them STILL didn't get it.

*le sigh*

Not only does it stand to reason that my creativity stands alone within my genealogy, but I'm apparently also one of the very few with anything beyond a modicum of understanding of the rules of the language we all share. This is not exactly surprising, but it is disheartening. It's hard to go through life knowing your chances of feeling success are limited by your own family's ability to understand what you do.

I recently came across a poignant quote from Charles Schulz, the brilliant yet humble author of the Peanuts (Charlie Brown) cartoons. He said "[People] forget that I not only have to do some drawing. I occasionally have to do some thinking. It's hard to convince people when you're just staring out of the window that you're doing your hardest work of the day."

I couldn't have said it better myself. The majority of my family are farmers, a profession I respect inherently. But they work with their hands, not words and papers. I am a black sheep in that church basement, and the gap gets wider every year. 

It's not that I can't or haven't found acceptance elsewhere... my friends and colleagues are invaluable to me... but it does mean there is a large part of the American Dream that I'll likely never achieve.

[Insert plug for comments/ followers/ fans here].

Woefully yours,
-K.

Ps: Yesterday's Writing Results... Nothing. But the day before I started this blog. Go me.

It Begins

Hello World,
So I'm supposed to be writing a blog. Whoopee. Everybody's doing it. It's good for exposure and gaining fans and all that. Except I tried this once already and I only did 2 posts before I bored myself. Maybe I was trying too hard to make it awesome? Maybe my blog idea sucked? Nah. Probably it was just another example of my primary problem: I don't put my ass in a chair and write.

So this blog is my second official attempt to get a 'daily' bit of writing done. This time I'm running on the theory that if I'm brutally honest with myself (and if I get to bitch and whine like I secretly want to about not 'making it' as an author), I might actually post more often. Who knows, it might even push me to write actual stories from time to time.

The sadistic side of me suspects that total strangers will find the self-loathing honest enough to read. Of course the self-preservation side of me has decided not to share this with my friends and fans. At least for a little while. Let this blog be what it is. Let it generate 'real' interest based on its merits alone before I share with those who already know me. I'm hoping that brutally honest thing might help.

Especially if I keep it short.

So that's it. I'm done for today. Tomorrow's topic: Why my job sucks balls and totally dehydrates my creativity.

[Insert typical begging for followers here].

Yours truly,
-K.

Ps: Yesterday's Writing Results... nothing.