let me take my love and bury it in a hole six foot deep

Posted: October 5, 2012 in Uncategorized
Tags: , ,

I’ve been revising “Cassandra” lately, hoping to get it sent out to potential markets by the end of the year. It’s not really a time-consuming process– I basically just do it whenever I have a spare minute. A couple days ago, I had some time to kill between classes, so I thought, “Hey! Why don’t I get a coffee? It’s a cold day, and I like coffee. I see no problems with this plan!”

So I headed to the Stevenson coffee shop, got a light-roast mocha (NOM SO GOOD) and a chocolate croissant, sat down at a table, and thought, “I should work on ‘Cassandra’ right now– after all, I don’t have anything better to do.”

I got out my hard copy of Draft 1 of “Cassandra” and one of my trusty red pens (despite the fact that I am a member of the internet generation, I prefer to work with a hard copy when I’m revising– it’s easier to read when it’s on paper, and besides, I like red pens), and started working.

It was after a couple minutes that I realized that what I was doing was maybe the most hipsterish thing in the world.

I mean, come on. Writing in a coffee shop? That’s cliché, and besides, I find it doesn’t work. When I’m actually creating, as opposed to just revising, I have to have my own space. Working on a story or a novel or a script or a song or whatever in a coffee shop just smacks of begging for attention, to me. It’s more about showing the world that you’re a writer, and less about, you know, actually writing.

However, this made me think about my own writing. Why do I have the right to call myself a writer? I haven’t sold anything. I don’t make my living off of writing. Whenever I tell someone I’m a writer, I feel like I’m lying.

Huh.

That last sentence was important. I’ll repeat it.

Whenever I tell someone I’m a writer, I feel like I’m lying.

No matter how far I’ve come as a writer– and Axolotl Ceviche has actually helped a lot with my writing ability– I always feel like I’m that same middle school kid crafting his Tolkien ripoff. I don’t feel like I’m actually a writer.

So, you know how I’m going to make that feeling go away?

You can probably guess the answer.

I’m going to keep on writing.

~ Ian

PS: Like usual, the title of this post has nothing to do with the actual post, and is actually a song lyric. I watched “Once More, With Feeling” last night, and so the songs have been going through my head today.

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