There are many ways to fall short of your personal expectations, and I think one of the worst ways is to fall into a rut. I fell into a rut 7 years ago, with a food addiction, alcohol, and weed, and it was not until I sobered up did I meet the love of my life. I now disdain any sort of drug, and may only ever drink again to get over my natural nervousness when we meet up to get married in another country, but maybe even then, I may not drink. But there are other ruts as well, ruts that we get when thinking about what other people are attempting. One such rut was exposed to my sense of detection tonight, when for probably the 5th time, I was asked what is my blog about? What direction is it taking, what niche is it covering? I think I gave a suitable answer, but underneath, I was thinking about it, what is the direction? Is there one, and that is pretty much the answer I gave, I remember now, I said exactly what this blog is for. I am here to write. I am here to write badly, probably for a long time, but I am here to write. I might review, I might muse, I might meander all over, but first and foremost is the idea that I need to put down a thousand words every chance I get.
I announced in my first blog that I intend to be writer, and yes I intend, to all purposes, to put aside my humility and take up my pride, and become something greater than I have been in the past. I have said over and over again how I hate this, or I hate that, but I never really took in what I was doing that put me in this position of anger and hatred for so long. My dear Fae Queen however, took one long look at what I was writing her and said, I remember, very flatly, very determined, you are going to become a writer. I really couldn’t answer her at first, but after some time, it became clear, I had to do something, this woman would never be happy being married to a bottle shop clerk, and I am to old to become a great fabricator, or artist, but write, I can do that! Please understand, I have no clue how I am going to do this, but just getting in there and writing my ass off. I do not know what how much a successful writer writes, but I do know that there is one universal truth that all good and great writers espouse, and that is to get your hands dirty and write.
So that brings me back to what started this idea for today’s blog, that of falling into a rut. Not just me falling into a horrible rut of depression and addiction, but me falling prey to any ruts laying about out there, ready to entrap me and conform me yet again to lesser ideas and smaller accomplishments. I have seen many things come to pass in the past few years, and one of the worst is this idea of finding a niche, finding some small community of ideas that have not been expounded upon and bullied about by one person so that they build a following of pointed idealists about the topic they have so successfully chosen. Look, if choosing a small topic is your happiness, and you write about it well, fine, I am all for your success, but I find the idea appalling. I want to encompass the whole of the truths, the giant expanse of everything, and I want to do it in one thousand words. I will try again and again, I will fail, oh I will fail, but I believe the time of the niche idea has come and gone, and is being used by corporations and governments to keep us thinking small. I am not trying to insult Auntie May’s Beautiful Flowers of the World blog at all, I am really happy for Auntie May, I am glad the old bird is on the web and sharing her life as she wants, using her wifi camera to share the beautiful flowers with us, but I am not that kind of author.
I come from the tradesmen background, with a rebellious stint in punk rock to educate me, fire me up, and let me know how the world works and who runs the damn show. I watched the Reagan years destroy my families claim to wealth and skill, I have watched for 25 damn years as we tradesmen got the short end of the stick on everything, from opportunity to lost wage increases. I joined the service economy in a dead end retail job, which after 10 years of being in, I am still nothing but a clerk, because I do not kowtow or appease, but instead work and expect equal treatment. Now, I have taken up the pen, it is my new weapon, my new voice. I will be intent on showing the world where we can go right, where we can look for inspiration, and I will be bringing my stubbornness and background in skilled labor to the table with my pen. I will not be bought out by some shush keeping publisher, I will stand on my two feet, because I can make my own home, from scratch, without anyone’s help. I am in a unique position, I understand the problems of the professional blue collar worker, I have studied the imperialism of Aristotle, I started my own BBS in 1984 and learned how to communicate digitally before a lot of people were even born into the age of the internet, I can work a sledge hammer like very few left in the world, and John Henry is long dead.
I am here specifically to write, not rut, and I will write until I feel it becomes good enough to go further. Right now, I am very meh about what I say, I am not putting pressure on myself, but I am learning to do this writing thing, I am learning to do it, and I am digging on it like nothing else I have done in years.