I have just spent the last three hours watching Chuck reruns in order to avoid writing this first blog post. Staring out the window and mechanically taking in half a sleeve of coconut tea cookies between thoughts is also helping me delay the advent of what is about to happen. It’s like that Chuck episode where Charles Bartowski, the endearingly average Buy More employee, faces his fears, takes what little skills and knowledge he has, and with a nervous smile, takes on the bad guys, neutralizes the threat, saves the day, and maybe learns a little bit more about himself. Oh wait, that’s every episode. What I’m trying to say is that, like Chuck, I’m average (I know – try to keep your hats on), but maybe with a little bit of scary work I can discover something more. I posses average writing skills. But maybe not forever.”Maybe” because I’m not really sure how hard I’m willing to work at this right now. Because right now there is a whole gang of little red-faced miscreants in my mind sneering and bouncing signs that say things like:
“You ramble too much when you write. People hate that!“
“So what if you could write a few good essays in college? That doesn’t make you a writer!“
“People won’t get your allusions or humor“
“You need to be a little more clever than that, honey“
“What? You’re putting a comma there? You don’t even know what you’re doing!“
“You’ve tried this before. You know you’re going to give up. Go back to eating cookies – you’re consistent at that.“
“Oh, brother! You’ve used the word ‘because‘ way too many times already!“
BECAUSE, whenever any of us try to do something a little more than average, or at least out of the ordinary, we can easily find a hundred reasons NOT to do that thing. It’s cake to convince ourselves not to start. But right now I’m a little tired of listening to that little mob trying to lynch my creativity. I’m a little tired of wasting my time. I’m a little tired of doing the easy thing of always taking in, but never giving out. How terrible would it be if Mozart listened to Spotify all day, but never composed? How disappointing would it have been for Van Gogh to scroll through Tumblr, but never pick up a brush? How wasteful would it have been for Spielberg to spend all day on Netflix, but never direct? How sad would it be if Chuck just kept fixing computers, but never discovered he had mad spy skills?
How bad would it be for me if I don’t start doing hard things? I don’t want to find out.
So, this is my start. And if you’re interested in a preview, here’s what to expect:
- Some rambling
- Some travel blogging
- Some object lessons usually in the form of analogies
- Me trying to make you laugh, smile, or at least have a gas cramp
- Probably some pictures
Because above-average doesn’t often just happen and the only way to be a writer is to write.
Thanks for reading.