My article about moving after college was published on the National Collegiate Honors Society blog, TalkNerdy2Me. You can read it here!!
Arthur: I’m just going to sit here angrily and watch TV. Good day, ma’am.
Me: hey Arth–
Arthur: I said good day!
Every writer goes through this. Probably 400 times every day. You stare at the words on your screen, the mountain of rejections in your inbox, the shelf of other people’s bestsellers beside your desk, and you think: “I am the crappiest crap monster that has ever crapped on a page. I am the epitome of suckitude. My writing is so far into the realm of cliché that I should just post it as prepubescent fanfiction and forget it.”
May I rest in peace.
Read one of my poems here:
Submitted by Elizabeth
I am older than you. I am older
than the whole world. I witnessed
the sky fill the ocean and the ocean
dry the land. I was alive when Rocky
Mountains sprung up from their tectonic
fetus. I protested construction on the
Great Wall and stripped my skin with
View original post 125 more words
I don’t mean the type of writer that sits in the corner at parties and writes secret character sketches for every person in the room. (Actually, who am I kidding? We’re all that type of writer. Innately creepy is on the first line of our job description. I don’t need to write a blog post about it.)
But YOU, you cackling beast, you want to be a creepy writer. The kind that makes people check behind shower curtains before peeing. You want people to shiver and squeak and hate themselves when it’s four in the morning and they’re burning up but it’s too dangerous to stick any of their limbs out from beneath the covers. All the while, you want them to love it. You want them to come back for more, and devour every nightmarish word you put to paper.
The only problem is…people are tough sacks of impenetrable leather. And scaring them is really, really hard to do. We’ve all seen every ghost and murderer and mutated alien there is to see. Clowns? Laughable. Storage closets covered in blood? Yawn. That ghost that sings nursery rhymes and holds people in the kitchen sink until they drown? Child’s play.
So how exactly DO you creep people out in your writing?
It worked! Here you are! Reading this blog and silently stacking my writing skills against your own. (Hey, I won’t judge. We can’t help it). Welcome! It is I, ShyWriter (also known as Elizabeth), standing before you in one of those nightmares where I have to play and entire concerto while fully nude and tone deaf.
That’s what it feels like, anyway. Blogging is hard.
Anyway, I’m here to warmly welcome you to my Internet home! Would you like some pixelated coffee cake? Here, let me take your web-ifyed jacket. Smell the wafting scents of word love and cinnamon float through the doorway and settle over you. Now sit back and relax. (Really though, blogging and walking can be tricky business. Why aren’t you sitting already? You Multi-Tasking Explorer, you.)
Let me tell you what you can expect from this blog:
An entire Archive of it. You can view my ongoing Archive here and you can add your own stories to our community Archive here. As writers (and humans), we’re constantly told to enjoy the journey, but how are we supposed to do that if all we ever do is fail? I’ve found a way. Celebrate the failure. Every book you launch that only sells to your mother (after you ask her to buy it) is a gorgeous moment stamped on your history that says you tried, you brave soul. And you didn’t give up. You only have one little slot on this earth. Fill it with tries.