Hey, I was going to do this earlier, but life got in the way. Sue me, yeah?
I never really expected that I would stick with this. I never did before. I’d done blogs and journals before, but never stuck with them for any length of time. So, I started this blog with relatively low expectations, but hopes that it could be something important for me.
And now, I’m writing the 200th post on this blog, nearly two years after starting it during a lazy week in July when I was dreaming about being a published author like I did back when I was a kid.
I’ve been reading over all of the posts. A lot of them are those repetitive journal posts, where I write about how much I wrote and revised over the past week. But that writing journal has been vital for me. It’s been a tool in trying to hold myself accountable for the work that I do, even when nobody cares whether I write something during the week or not. [There are people who do follow me, but I keep that in perspective.] My family is going to love me no matter what, and I don’t have the type of fandom that was happy Stephen King survived being hit by a fan so he could finish The Dark Tower series and is more and more fearful that George R.R. Martin’s will executors or agents are going to have to hire someone to finish the A Song of Ice and Fire series.
But it’s gone way beyond that now. When I was a kid, I had visions of being a Stephen King, being a James Patterson, being one of those brands that goes beyond just being a writer and becomes An Institution, one of those people that’s famous for the books he writes. But, I’ve gone way beyond that now. Writing has become something more fundamental for me, more of an identity than a way to make a living. I honestly don’t care that I never become famous as a writer. I’d love that to happen, but that’s not the reason why I’m trying to put together three different writing projects with no particular prospects of getting them published by a reputable publisher. In many ways, writing is what keeps me sane now.
During the process of writing this blog, I went from being an unpublished author to a published one. In so many ways, I’ve accomplished my dreams, but I have a lot farther than I can go. It’s so exciting because this process of writing can go on for the rest of my life, and I always have further and farther that I can go. I used to say that I never would be able to write a memoir because I have such a garbage memory of my youth, but looking over this blog, I realized that I’ve at least written the rough outlines of such a memoir in a way that seems coherent.
To those who love me, thank you for that love, and thank you for all of your support. Thanks to everyone that’s taken the time to read this blog and a middle-aged-guy’s meandering thoughts about writing and his writing life. Thanks to anyone who’s ever bought my book – I hope I told a great story for you. If you stick around, I might have a few more tales for you before I’m done.
I’m a son, father, husband, and teacher, but I’m also a writer, blogger, and poet. I know that writing is essential to my identity, and that I’m going to keep writing no matter how many people see my work. It’s not about that. I’m a storyteller; I’m going to be telling stories until the day I die.
Hang out here if you want to hear a few.