I have some unfortunate news. And I don’t know how to break it to you. So I’ll just spit it out – I’m not going to post my story.
I apologize, I really do. It’s just that my over analysis of the whole thing has been getting to me. I’ve taken a little break from things because up until last night, I could’t figure them out. But now I have and this is what I’ve decided to do.
Here’s what happened – I have been writing now for a few weeks. The first few days, I would say that I completed about ten really great pages. I thought I completed the beginning of the story I wanted to tell. So, I kept on writing. I kept writing, right up until a few days ago when I looked to see how much I had done and realized that I was up to twenty six pages. My short story somehow had drifted away from short story status. And the worst part of the whole thing is that the more I wrote, the more I realized that I hadn’t even really begun the story yet. The juice of it needs so much foreplay that the mile markers kept getting further and further away. It is turning out to be rather long indeed.
There’s something else too. Something else that has really been bugging me. And it’s not your fault – it’s probably something I need to work on and I’m sure I’ll get to it one of these days. The problem is that this blog – the one you’re on right now – is kind of a jumbled mess. I have people from far and wide read this thing and by having all types of people here at the same time, looking for different things, I get very distracted when I write about my personal life. I joke all the time about how my audience mainly consists of people looking how to de-thatch their lawns or how to put wood sides on a trailer. It’s funny to say that, but when I end up posting things about my family, friends and experiences I have enjoyed or hated throughout my life, I can’t seem to get over the fact that there is a trucker from Illinois, who is trying to figure out how to fix his pellet stove, reading the same posts that my mother is reading.
Now, that brings me to another topic. My close friends and family. By having these types of people read what I post here, I am opening up the possibility of offending someone. When I write, I like to really get into it. I enjoy using the appropriate language for the situation and I enjoy writing about particular emotions. I can’t count the number of times I had to go back in the story I am currently working on to edit out something that was borderline offensive, but really good. I would so much rather avoid the snickers and grins of what this venue has the potential of causing and would prefer to simply drop off a thick stack of paper to my family one day with a sticky note that says, “Here – get to know me.”
So I’m not sure you can sympathize with what I am trying to say here, but I hope you get the gist. If not, I’ll sum it up for you – I want to have the freedom to write the story. My feeling is that I need to be able to sit here and type, without the sensation of someone looking over my shoulder correcting my English, while at the same time calling me rude. That’s just not the way to do these things.