Is it worth it?

I have days where I’m on top of the fucking world over my writing.

I feel unstoppable because of the sheer amount of shit I accomplish.

Other days, all of it seems so damned hopeless.

Not a day goes by where I finish everything that needs done.

Not a day goes by where the to-do list is shorter than it was at day’s start.

Not a day goes by where a new problem doesn’t crop up. A problem that I don’t have a solution for.

This isn’t just my writing. No, it’s everything together.

House needs clean… are the kids really doing that much damage or is it dismantling itself?

Kids need taken care of… they seem active agents in derailing my efforts to keep them happy.

I need to write a blog post… I have one ready but it’s absolute shit… utter garbage… at least that’s how I look at it today.

Make progress on the novel… I’m so close… but it’s absolute shit… utter garbage… at least that’s how I feel at this second.

Now I need to write for the magazine… it’s optional… but for me? No, it’s not.

Take steps to find work that pays now rather than later. Offer yourself to someone looking for editing. Not because you need the work, but because you would like to help.

Of course, the money doesn’t hurt. Neither does the experience.

“I want a professional,” they say.

“I want a college graduate,” they say.

Fair enough.

But I am a professional. This is what I am doing to make a living. I love it, but it is not merely a hobby.

But I am a college graduate. It’s just a two-year degree. But I’m so very near several four-year degrees.

No. I’m not going back.

I’ve had more schooling than I care to have had. If I could go back, I wouldn’t have gone in the first place.

I would have started my real work in high school. Fuck college.

It truly isn’t for everyone. Everyone thought it was the perfect path for me.

No. I want to do. I don’t want to spend the time getting a paper that tells me I am now acceptable for learning how to do.

Because, in my experience, college doesn’t teach.

It makes sure you’re literate, hands you a piece of paper, then puts you out in a position of still needing to learn the job that you will end up doing.

Had I just buckled down and done what everyone said I was supposed to do… because I was plenty capable on an intellectual level… would I be so much better off?

I’d probably be stuck in a job I hate. At least I love what I’m pursuing now.

What’s something else I could do?

Ask the public about an idea I have. One I had noticed interest in when other people raised it as a question. One they didn’t seem sure how to accomplish.

One I know how to solve. I can create something people would enjoy. Something I have experience with.


No. My apologies. Not crickets… a single like… from a woman who just wants people to pay to see her naked.

Try talking to people then?

I do.

It leads to conversation.


It goes nowhere.

Do people care I exist? After the conversation ends, do they even remember?

I remember each and every one of them.

Worse case. I talk to someone…

They get angry.

“How dare you have the audacity to speak to me?!”

My words but true story. I related to their writing. I wanted a dialogue with them.

Is it me? Do I just not know how to talk to people?

Every day is a struggle.

So… is it worth it?

Would it be worth it to do something else?

No. I’m a writer. A creator.

I have been since I was young. It was just overshadowed.

I started and stopped many pursuits. The whole time I continued writing… continued creating.

But at what point do people begin to care when I speak?

Is it simply a matter of persistence?

Because I’m not going away.

I will continue to do what I do.

Place block upon block.

Word after word.

Until I am seen.

Or until I die a failure.

But not a quitter.

I have never been a quitter, contrary to popular belief. Everything I have ever quit has been simply a putting away of a distraction.

My path will not be dictated to me.

I know who I am.