I used to do this every single day for over a year. It was meant as an exercise to force me to write something everyday; an exercise meant to prime the creative pump and, hopefully, lead to something better than the usual diarrhea of the brain. But then I stopped because I thought, who the hell cares what I have to say anyway?
Sometimes, rarely, I wrote something that resonated with people and they were all, you’re pretty good at this. Hell, a couple of you even paid me for it. Weird.
Like most of you, I am riddled with self-doubt. To the few of you that aren’t… how the fuck do you do it? That’s not rhetorical. I really want to know how you get up every single day and just know that this is your world for the taking?
I am also the king of giving the best advice I would never take myself. Not unique, I know. But I am going to do something that is really uncomfortable for me. I am going to give myself the same advice I would give to you if you were (and I know you likely are) riddled with the same self-doubt plaguing me:
Do it anyway. Write something everyday. The stuff and nonsense that you think is pure crap is probably the same stuff in someone else’s head. And really, if that stranger on the internet stumbles across something you write and it makes them feel seen, less alone, a wee bit more normal… well, that will have been a good thing you did. That only makes the world a better place.
So, Rudy, write that story that you think nobody will like. Don’t worry that you’re not Hemingway; he already wrote his stories. Write yours. Whether it’s word vomit that you think makes no sense to anyone outside of your own mind, or a story about a boy and his dog, or a meandering list of observations, just fucking write.
And you, stranger on the internet, you do that thing that you think nobody will like. Do it for you. Learn that instrument, paint that picture, dance like you’re having a seizure. Do whatever that thing is that makes you feel scared and alive.
As for me. I have stories I want to tell you. Stories about me. Stories that live in the absurdity that is my mind. About a girl I loved. About a dog I miss. About monsters befriended, and friends who became nightmares. About so many silly things. I’ll trust you to decide whether they’re any good.
And in between I’ll take up the mantle of my daily word vomit to get the juices flowing.
Come along. It’ll always be free, unless the spirit moves you.
-R
Postscript – you bet your ass I googled mantle or mantel just to get it right.
