To Thine Own Self

Being a writer is hard. It is no matter who you are. Good writers don’t just sit down and vomit perfect sentence structure onto their keyboard. Sometimes writing is one of the biggest, most unpleasant chores I have. Whether it’s my column, an article for class or this very blog post…

I have a hard time explaining why I do what I do. I usually say something about expressing myself, or how rewarding it is. But there’s more to it than that, and I think my fellow writers would agree.

Anyway, I’ve written about a lot of things in my short career thus far. I have always had a passion for the arts and pop culture. My first blog, “The Big Machine” was created to double my column in the Sonoma State Star as well as extra work that can’t be printed. The posts deal exclusively with the arts, pop culture and the media.

In my writing classes, I dabbled in news, feature and opinion writing. I even attempted short stories a few times (no, you can’t see them). I’m really proud of everything I’ve done, but I feel like over the past few years, I’ve been avoiding the toughest subject of all.

Myself.

The closest I have ever come to writing about my own experiences is a witty account of the night my roof leaked in my dorm room sophomore year. I read my friends’ writing, and see them pouring themselves into their words, and wonder what has been holding me back.

I’ve heard that when you don’t know what to write, write about what you know. Maybe the problem is I don’t know myself as well as I should. Or, maybe I genuinely hate talking about myself.

Either way, this is my attempt to tackle a territory I have never done publicly, and it couldn’t come at a better time. There are many things in my life I have meant to take pen to, but have been too nervous. When things didn’t fit into my neat Arts & Entertainment box, I threw them out. I am worried what people will think, or that they won’t care.

But then, I remembered a promise I made to myself early this year. For a long time, I have obsessed about what other people think of me. It was one of those things I didn’t think was an issue until I started noticing it. It’s the curse of being a people pleaser (as a fellow writer pointed out to me recently). I should not be putting the interests of people I barely know above my own. Also, putting myself out there does not make me weird or pushy.

So, this is going to be about me. And I promise, this is just as strange for me as it is for you.