No intro today, just words; Unedited First Draft Words:
— UNEDITED FIRST DRAFT —
I made the mistake of reading The New Yorker before I wrote today’s piece. I read hoping to find inspiration, but instead, I found discouragement. Reading each piece of “expert” writing had the effect of elongating my Beginner-to-‘Real’Writer journey; how will I ever learn to write like a New Yorker contributor?
My discouraged state followed me like a cartoon rain cloud all day. I couldn’t escape my painful desire to “become” a writer; a dream that, today, seemed one further step out of reach. I want to be a professional writer, I know I can become a professional writer, but today I finally witnessed the gap between my writing and “their” writing.
As my delicate window of writing opportunity was closing in, I thought, “F@ck the New Yorker dream,” and go play with those rocks you found yesterday.
So I turned on my Macbook and typed out my address – yes, my very OWN address – and read yesterday’s post, as a reader, not a writer.
I read hoping to find any budding signs of an “expert” writer, but instead, I found love: a terribly messy piece of writing love.
I’m a mom; I’m a wife, and I’m a messy new writer. I do it all as a professional lover.
One day New Yorker dream, I’m coming for you. One post at a time, I’ll polish these rocks with more love, finding gems just like you.
Follow me on Instagram @onemomswords to find more rocks turned gems.
This is a new blog: no purpose yet, no images yet, no clear sense yet; just words, lots of tangled words.