Let’s just get it out in the open then, shall we?
I soooooo want to be one of those writers that sends their art out into the world like a paper boat on the stream of good will letting it port where it may, so blissfully entrenched in the artistic process that they care not whither it roams and how it is received. But does that writer exist?
Or perhaps we’re all obsessive, self-promoting little gerbils trying to get that pellet of praise at all costs…
Confession. Yes, I’m a gerbil. I check the stats on my blogs all day long. I pimp my writing over and over again on twitter, facebook, emails, conversations, coffee shops, bars, and church. I want my reads to go up and up and up, and I want comments, comments, comments. I wonder if you’ll one day see me standing at the intersection with a cardboard sign begging for reads.
I feel like a fisherman, putting out my lines, hoping for a tug, fishing for that whopper of a comment or a record day of reads that will feed my need to be appreciated as a writer for another few days.
I’ve entitled this blog “The Non-Aspiring Amateur” because I don’t really aspire to be a professional at my art, so the end goal for me isn’t being published…I just want to be read by every man, woman, and child in the world. I want people to be addicted to my writing the way I’m addicted to other people’s writing. I want people to have desk calendars that have my writing instead of a daily Dilbert or Farside. I want people to tattoo my best words to their limbs and ass. I want my choicest phrases to be served as Holy Communion on World Communion Sunday as a sacrifice of my body and blood! I’ll stop before I get carried away…
But the truth is, I’m not entirely sure I’d be addicted to my own writing…or singing or songwriting or acting or anything. If anything, I’m addicted to the idea of YOU being addicted to my art. Perhaps it comes from being raised on the Dr. Spock book that preaches the boosting of your child’s self-esteem. Perhaps it’s the engine that all artists carry that gives us the drive to do what we do. And doesn’t somebody have to do it? Doesn’t the world need our art?
Well, maybe. But one thing I know for certain is that I need my art. I’m utterly useless and depressed without it. So, if it will keep me off the streets, it’s at least worth something.