To Write, Or Not To Write: That Is The Question

I've always been fond of reading. Ever since I small, little child reading was the best thing ever. I loved the stories, the fantastical world the author would create to the way the cover was designed and the fresh smell the book would emit just by opening up. I could go into serious detail about a book!!

Also on the same token I love to write. Those were always my two strongest point. Even in school, when my only favorite subject I presumed was music. I secretly loved English and Language Arts—just didn't realize it until late in my life. I've always been a dreamer no matter what and I can come up with a story out of nowhere just by letting my mind wonder. Then again I could be totally insane and I just happen to be same enough to be let loose amongst society lol. But I developed a love for poetry when I was young and began writing poetry when I was about 12 years old or so. My grandmother had just died and I was very unhappy, wasn't eating properly and had restless nights. So then, it was a nice outlet. I would even write a story every now and then. I never consider myself an author, but yet in still I flocked to the library my safe haven and would read and write to my little hearts content. I continued to write poetry. I liked the feeling of seeing my words worked out on paper to create something I felt was great. Unfortunately then, I was getting into constructive and nonconstructive criticism. When you're young and you write or draw something you immediately show it off. It's just the way we are, we know we worked hard on it and did a good job. Mom or Dad or Grandma dotes how beautiful and spectacular our piece of work is and how even Picasso would be jealous!! It made us feel good and encouraged us to continue because we loved that sort of attention. However once you hit the real world and then people start saying how ugly of a drawing that is and how horribly written this is—it makes you angry, but it also hurts. I've had many people tell me how much they hate a piece than to say they sorta liked it. Eventually, I didn't let that stop me. I continued to dream and go off into my fantastical world and dream up crazy ideas and those wonderful shoulda, coulda, woulda situations. So I wrote. I wrote poetry and any story I could, whether it be a novel, vignette or novela or anything. Then one day I was challenged into doing a short story. To be honest I sucked at those. I would write with the intention of a short story (usually they're no longer than 6-10 pages) and I wouldn't notice until late I had written a 100 or so pages. So as often as I could I would avoid that subject. Until it smacked me dead in my face at college.


I wasn't enthused to be working on short stories. Nor did I really want to but because I HAD TO I really didn't have much of a choice. My first short story, turned into a chapter, 17 pages to be exact. OH THE AGONY!!!! I got an F for that assignment and my professor told me to try harder and not want to make such a long story. Even though that woman was a complete quack and I took 5-6 of her classes (I think I was losing my mind then). She offered pretty good advice. Then I wrote my 2nd story about a love gone wrong. I ended it with the woman in the story dying. It was the best I could do. Unfortunately this professor was the type who would scrutinize everything you did and tell you how horribly wrong it had gone without consider your feelings. She told me she didn't like the story. She made me change it so many times I lost count and then when she finally accepted it, she either gave me a D or a C. Yeah, some college professors are petty like that. But because of that, I knew I didn't want anyone changing the story to their liking. Because to me, I wouldn't be writing it anymore, it wouldn't be my story, it would just be something everybody got to participate in. I didn't like that. I gave her the story the way she liked it. But I kept the original copy not only because it was my very first short story but because I wrote it the way I wanted to write it and kept it that way. The more I had to write the more I began to enjoy short stories. It was another commodity to my writing skills and that made me very happy.


When I finally got the chance to publish my work in the college literary magazine. I was overjoyed. But that happiness soon got crushed when they told me no I couldn't participate the second year. I did try a third time and they accepted those poems. That was my last year at Penn State, go figure. So thus I started a blog lol. However I knew that posting my poetry and writing down stories wouldn't excite people, no one had to read my writings. So throwing them at everybody, no one really had to take notice nor did they really have to care. For the sale of my feelings, that was for the best. My parents encouraged me to write my own book and publish it. Sales and price wasn't an issue, but I think they wanted to make me happy. Even now my mother mentions from to time to write a story. She thinks I'd be great to write children's books and anything else. The encouragement is nice, but I also have to think realistically—right??


Well a few months ago, I was watching the sad television program they throw together on the weekends. There's this news edition meant strictly for kids and teens. They mentioned this particular weekend how this preteen published his first book. I'm like his family must have money or he knew someone that knew somebody. Well he was neither of those things I first thought. He came from a mediocre home and family. Not rich, but not poor either. And dammit if he didn't have his book there with his name on it. Not only was I utterly shocked but I was amazed, plus my attention was got lol. They explained how he did it and I said at some point I would go back and look into it. The search of jobs job was taking over my life and I spent more time wasted for nothing than actually gaining anything and it just became a forgotten thing I suppose.


Well, while finding jobs that I could possibly work for. I happen to go to my email. I send a lot of things to myself so I don't have to go on an adventure to find it or lose it completely lol. Call it silly but I've always done it and it's always worked for me. In the midst of searching for something, I remember that weekend about the kid who published his own book. God help me because I forgot the name of the website >_< *fist shake*. I ended up having to google and couldn't find it. Then I remembered how people said that writing an ebook could be of help or bring in some money and I decided to get more information on it. Then this website popped up and I looked into it. Hmm, well this seems all too good to be true. I found an article that spoke highly of this website. I'm like what the fork?? So I went back to the website and read a little more and then it clicked! It was the same website that preteen used, the same one they talked about on that show that weekend. Then I thought how could I forget something so easy?? I'm a total ditz!!


I spent my morning yesterday researching and pondering and wondering. Many ideas and stories started to brew inside my head and I was tempted. Believe me I was very tempted. However I was reluctant. I've never had much good luck. I'm the person who find a penny while someone else finds $500 on the ground. But the more I considered it yesterday morning the more I thought, well it's worth the try. What exactly do I've got to lose or gain?? Can't hold up too much expectation because then the fall and negative result would hurt like hell. I put the thought aside and went to an email I had about a job that was in the online newspaper classified. That job was gone and I found a few others. The all mentioned they were down town—one lied and is located on the South Side of the city. I found that out today. But I had to wonder is the other place really down town?? I want to call them back, but the rejection scares me the most and there's no way of getting around it really. Even though it scares me to death to find out, I know I have to face me fears head on and try anyway regardless of the outcome. It's the fact and the notion that I tried my best and did what I could and move on in case it doesn't work out. When those words rang in my head, I wondered back to the thought of self publishing a book. A book about what though?? Princesses, Life, Humour, Mystery, Poetry, A collection of short stories?? Should I create my own cover or find someone better than I?? So many thoughts enter my brain that I needed a break.


So here I am wondering, should I continue this endless of not getting a job working anywhere job search?? Or should I take a risk and work a book together and publish it??

I know I'm not the best writer in the world. The chances of me being a best selling author, with an article on my work in the New York Times best seller list is a million to one. However, writing is what I'm good at and it's something I do well. We all have things we do well oppose to our favorite things to do and those we despise with a passion to do. Hell we all have whims as well. I had it in my mind I would start a comic book or a manga. Took me awhile to come up with a subject lol but I eventually got one I want to do whether it gets published or not. In this case, this opportunity is staring me right in the face. Beckoning me to follow, to come along. I'm tempted to go.


As I sit here writing this, I want to. I really really want to. I've dealt with rejection before and can handle it pretty well. But what if it turns out to be something great!? Now that my friend is by far the scariest thought that anyone could ever perceive.

I'm a college dropout, without a home in the world. I can read and write. When time calls for it I'm a pretty good drawer and color-er lol. It's a chance in a life time and one I may not get back nor I'll I ever see again. I think it's time for me to start anew, get out my feathered pen and paper or at least in this day the computer and iPhone and do what I do best and write. Write as many stories as possible. However for now, I think I'm going to take a chance and pick or write a story and publish it. And if it doesn't go in the great way expected. At least I can say, Hey I published a book and I'm damn proud of it.


Thus begins a new chapter of my life.


But the question will always be:

To write or not to write?





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