I started a blog because....
Because although most of me would like to hide in the corner and cover my face so no one notices me the other part of me craves an audience. Part of me is a little girl screaming "LOOK AT ME! DAMN IT, LOOK AT ME." In general my two parts are at war. I usually strangle the little girl and let the wallflower tuck herself into the corner hiding away from everything.
The thing is I want to be a writer. That is I want to make my money from writing. I have my name in print in three separate books and I don't promote them, I don't tell anyone I've written anything. People don't know that I write at all because the wallflower would prefer that I fail as a writer than that I am noticed.
I would like my entire life to be private, but at the same time I realize there is no privacy in the modern world. I am not looking for sympathy, or comments, or help. I would prefer I didn't know who my audience was and that they did not know me. I would love to walk out onto the spotlight with the darkness hiding the audience from sight. However in the real world you need to promote any endeavor first to your friends because strangers will never seek you out.
I write because I can't help myself. It's how I think, it's how I process what is going on in my life. A friend once said that "If people read what you wrote they would know exactly what is going on with you." Most of what I write is personal. Too personal perhaps to share but at the same time I'm proud of the words, I enjoy writing for an audience and I enjoy fashioning my experiences into stories. I think that true stories contain the most real emotions but they are stories.
As stories I shape them and suck as much emotion out of them as I can. If you only read my stories you would probably believe I'm a terribly depressed person, but I'm not. The stories are my way of channeling the emotions, of exercising my demons. If you want to read chipper little stories about how lovely life is and how shopping at the mall was so uplifting this probably is not the blog for you. If you want to read stories about getting your teeth kicked in by life and getting up again, well have I got a story for you.
Just realize these are stories, and I am a storyteller.
Once upon a time I was telling a story about seeing a rat and my arms were stretched out, my husband at the time had to reach out and push my arms together because "the rat was never that big, there are no rats that big." Well these are stories, they are true stories, but only within the context of a story, because sometimes the rat isn't that big except in your mind.
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