Writing What I Want (Another Try at Blogging)

I want to write a book. Like really bad. But I’m not sure what to write about. I find it the easiest to write about myself. My day to day activities; my failures; my lack of love and heartbreak; my terminal nuttiness.

I try to write as often as I can; whenever I feel the inspiration. But after I get the initial word vomit typed into my Word document, I become stuck, judgmental, and frustrated with myself, so I stop. As a result I’m left with an incomplete thought and less hope for a complete book. Who would want to read a book with not one complete thought? Actually, I probably would.  I would feel an immediate kinship with the author.

I suppose my biggest problem is that when I start a thought process, I’m in my own stream of consciousness. I know how I’m feeling and I’m expressing it in the best way I know how. Then, I start to wonder how others will interpret this train of thought. Will they enjoy it? Will they hate it? So I start to conform to those—who do not exist at this point—who are reading my book—which does not exist at this point. I try to write things that will make them laugh, or inspire them, and then I hit a wall. It makes sense. This is how most social interactions go for me when I meet someone new. I try to think of material they would find interesting rather than what I actually want to talk about. To me, a perfect world would be one where upon meeting someone you can immediately cut the shit and skip to the part where I tell you all my little oddities. “Hey, I’m Kim. My second toe is longer than my big toe, I still cut the crusts off my sandwiches and I have absolutely no idea what I want to do with my life. Shall we be besties?”

The biggest problem I have with writing is the fear of actually finishing a book. So let’s say somehow I actually pull myself together and complete a—most likely unconventional—novel, then what? What happens if it just stays in the confines of computer for only my eyes? What if it’s wildly successful and suddenly people start wanting to meet me or know how I take my coffee? I HATE COFFEE.  So much stress. It’s a marvel anyone ever writes/finishes a book. How do they handle all of these emotions?

I’ve been doing a lot of reading lately, of a large variety of books. I went through a period of reading sappy romantic books that made me hate my life a little bit. I read the Fault in Our Stars which simultaneously built and crushed my universe. I read a bunch of autobiographies by hilarious women I wish I could be. (I.e. Ellen DeGeneres & Mindy Kaling) And right now, I’m reading a book about dead people. Yes, dead people.

In doing all of this reading, I came to an important realization: I can write about whatever I want.  There are absolutely zero guidelines or limitations on how to write a book. It can be about anything. It can be any shape, any color, any language. It can be written backwards, upside down, in a font made of flaming unicorns. You name it, you can do it.

So I’m going to.

It may not become a book. It may not become anything at all, but it will have been written, and that’s what matters.

 

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