I’ve been studying all this stuff about social media—I hate that term almost as much as foodie—trying to grow a following for my blog, get people to read my stories, get rich, etc. etc. etc. I’ve also been using that to build a freelance career. I’ve learned a lot of shit. Unfortunately, it’s a lot of shit I don’t want to do. That being said, I’m fucking pumped when it works. For example, I’ll write a blog about writing or titties or Jesus. Then I post it on Google, edgefiction.com, and maybe WordPress. Then I tweet out a link to my 264 followers on Twitter and post it on Facebook. All of which I think is totally gay. Then all of a sudden, the hits on my website go from 3 to 150 in a couple hours. Not so gay at that point. I’m not actually sure what the point to all of this is…
Oh yeah. Writing. See, that’s the problem: I get so b[l]ogged down in all this other crap that I forget to write. Holy shit, that was a terrible pun, but I’m going to leave it for reasons I will soon reveal. I forget to write stories or blogs or whatever else I do. It’s terrible. I think I may have sat on a dirty-ass toilet bowl and caught the goddamn ADHD. Either that or I caught it from someone at the psych office where I work. Who knows? Anyway, I was reading an article from this email from problogger.com about creating a successful blog. It was about coming up with fresh content. I wasn’t really paying attention, because no shit, I need new content. While skimming, I thought to myself, “Self, why don’t you just write whatever crazy shit comes to mind and post that? There might be a few gems in there.” And typos. And me worrying about money, diabetes, money, political shit I don’t ever talk to anyone about, money, zombies, and shit like that. Genius idea.
So the plan is to write every day and post as much of it as I can, leaving all the bad writing and retardedness.
I used to write every day. I read One Continuous Mistake: The Four Noble Truths for Writers by Gail Sher. (I think the first noble truth is, “Writers write.”) That book changed my life. For a while. I wrote every day for almost two years. Every. Single. Day. Some days, it may have been a paragraph on a bar napkin. By the way, it’s pretty hard to write on a napkin after it gets wet. Other days, I would write ten pages without blinking. I would like to be able to wonder what happened, but I know what happened: Depression and booze happened. Even those things seemed to signify that I was on the right track at the time, but the good times can only last so long. (I’ll write more about depression and alcohol in a later blog—probably for the rest of my life.)
Sooo, I’m going to write some sort of shit every day and post it, no matter how bad it sucks. You, dear reader, can check it out and maybe get a chuckle, if only about how retarded I am. Maybe there will be inspirational stuff.
For example, there is something to that Secret of the Universe Shit. Start putting stuff out there. Just do it. I don’t believe in anything, but I’m starting to believe in that.
Until tomorrow, bitches…