Writing…and junk

A lot of writers blog about writing. Often. I have no idea how they find that many things to say, but I’ve noticed most of it falls into a few categories:

Writing advice. I don’t have any. I don’t know what I’m doing. I can’t help you. Besides, most of this seems to be either highly subjective, old (as in, “this worked for me ten years ago so if it doesn’t work for you, it’s because you suck), or judgmental (self-pub sucks, traditional is for tools, Nanowrimo is for losers, etc. You know what? Do whatever works for you. You have the ability to churn out whatever formula makes you rich, go for it. You want to write your thoughts on the smell of cupcakes? Have fun. Whatever. Again, I don’t know what I’m doing. I can’t help you. (Just don’t let other people boss you around. They’re probably guessing, too.)

Writing is a terrible career move/doesn’t pay. Well, duh. Nothing really pays all that well anymore. Not compared to a few years ago when salaries went further than they do now and companies hadn’t yet decided getting 120 hours of work out of three temp workers scheduled for 20 hours each would be the best way to meet quotas. Then there’s the matter of no one wanting to pay for anything anymore because they’re too busy paying for food, rent, and replacing things they just bought. Can’t buy books this month because you need to replace the shoes you’ve worn exactly five times (I’m looking at you Nine West and I’m not pleased). Can’t buy that new album because the two month old toaster just shorted out and died. Nothing lasts and nothing is free. Not really. But everyone’s looking for a loophole. And it drags down everyone else.

What [they’re] writing/promo/etc. I don’t know. I’m interested in the things I write, but I’m not sure anyone but me will ever read them, so I’m not sure where this category makes any sense. Might as well talk about how often I do laundry. Or how I planned how to run the white belt stripe tests tomorrow, but I’m still worried that’s not going to go as planned because 4-year-olds do not do anything as planned. I don’t seem to know how to write the sort of blockbuster thing that has all the right elements to make commuters tingle, so I’ll probably end up with a string of self-published books only two of the five buyers every even started reading.

What [they’re] reading/watching/listening to — the inspiration post. Yeah, I’m apparently not good at reading or watching or listening to anything the cool kids are into. My real life friends alternately whine (or wine) and quietly tolerate my terrible Pandora stations full of things they’ve never heard of, things they think sounds like cats on chalkboards, and things they’d prefer never to hear again. I still haven’t seen Breaking Bad. The last movie I saw at a theater was Nebraska. I went a good five or more years not really watching any TV because I was too busy and distracted to keep up with broadcast schedules and now that we have Hulu/Netflix, I’m mostly just overwhelmed by the sheer volume of choices and end up watching shit like Twin Peaks that I was supposed to watch with everyone else on the planet twenty years ago. I also seem to watch random episodes of Supernatural because despite being about four sociopaths who consistently lie to each other and alternately try to save or destroy the world while being resurrected at least once a season, it’s darkly and absurdly funny. I have also seen enough episodes of The Mindy Project to know that I do not find that show funny. (Granted, there is very little gallows in Kaling’s humor.) I appreciate the non-skinny, non-white lead and all. It’s just a sitcom and I never seem to find those funny. I am broken, humor wise. And I bought a math book on vacation. I don’t read enough genre big deals and I don’t read enough high brow literary masterpieces.

Mental and Physical Health. There’s nothing inherently interesting about my brand of depression, my occasional anxiety, or anything else. It sucks sometimes. Sometimes it doesn’t. I have adverse reactions to most medication and antidepressants are no exception. The only one that ever worked and didn’t make me crazier or narcoleptic makes me itchy, so that’s out. Exercise helps. Being stubborn is a double-edged sword. As far as I know, I’m otherwise healthy. I out-kick the fourteen-year-old brown belt. I run like an old asthmatic in an allergen factory, but aside from various pharmaceuticals, I’m only really allergic to vast quantities of mold. Cleaning chemicals make me sneezy. None of this is earth-shattering information. It’s not even interesting.

And thus, this blog goes through long spells of inactivity. Because I just don’t know what to say. And I’m not sure it’d be interesting if I did.

Be well, peeps.