A successful writer.

It is kind of hard to fail at something when there are really no guidelines set for what "succeeding" really means. I am very lucky that I have found a passion in which I can set my own guidelines for succeeding. I am a writer and I have succeeded in this because I have set the following guidelines:

Put writing first. Write regularly (every day if possible). Attempt different styles.

I definitely put my writing first. For instance, I have given up on my teaching career at the moment because I'm not willing to sacrifice time that would otherwise be spent on developing my writing skill. I definitely write regularly and I usually work on my writing every single day. And yes, I constantly attempt different styles.

Now, it's fascinating because people tell me that I'm not really a writer because I don't make money off of my writing.

Okay, so let's say there is a painter and his entire house is filled with beautiful brilliant paintings that he has painted. He is still a painter even though he's not making money off of his art.

Writing, to me, is not about money. (Cliché, I know). I look for writing positions online now and then and there are a bunch of openings in Center City. But really, that's not what I want to spend my time on. I have a full time job that pays my bills. I know that I would absolutely love getting paid to do what I love.. but right this second I'm more interested in working on my personal pieces. And my personal pieces provide no pay. I'm okay with that.

I am in the midst of a writing project that has all of my attention. A collection of poetry. It's loosely molded at the moment but every day I move one step closer to gaining cohesiveness.  Right now it is comprised of a little over a hundred poems. Tomorrow I'm going to the art museum for a few hours to hopefully gather some inspiration and hopefully move even closer to the cohesiveness that I desire.

This collection includes a weird mix that creates an interesting feel. Let me put it this way.. it's what you would get if you would throw Robert Frost, Andy Warhol, and Fishtown into a blender. I didn't mean for that to happen but it did. And I like it. This blended concoction smells like pine trees and beer and is colored hot pink and teal. Served in a mason jar, mind you.

It's about isolation in a crowded world. The happiness and sadness found in this isolation. It's a coming of age tale about a girl who barely gets by, dragging herself along a dirty sidewalk with no one by her side.

I think it feels pretty contemporary with a little hint of traditionalness thanks to my Robert Frost inspiration. Some of it takes on feelings of inadequacy and some of it is littered with a pretentious feeling.. someone trying far too hard to appear amazing when they are actually pretty mediocre.

I don't know. I probably sound crazy. Another guideline for a successful writer that I have failed to include in the guidelines I have given you. Again, I don't know.

So what am I going to do with this collection when it is done? Ehh... I'll probably just stare at it. Read it now and then. Put it in a corner and get started on my next collection. Dust it off now and then. Wish upon a star that it'll outlive me. That's really all that I want, really.

“We all die. The goal isn't to live forever, the goal is to create something that will.”