Things are good, I think!
I can't really tell because I have this
ambient anxiety, but when I question it I realise I don't actually have
anything to worry about*. It's weird.
As for my ever-flowering writing career, I've
joined up on Jottify so if you want to feel some secondhand
embarrassment and read some of my stuff, go ahead.
It's hard not to be
embarrassed about the stuff I write, because there are so many feelings
and the grammar is always awkward and nothing is ever good enough. But
life's too short, right? A while ago The Onion had the headline
97-Year-Old Dies Unaware of Being Violin Prodigy. I found it oddly poignant. I don't want writing
to be an opportunity I missed out on because I desperately avoided the
temporary discomfort of feeling judged and vulnerable.** So there!
*I
don't believe in jinxes, but this just feels like tempting the
universe. Don't be surprised if next post is about a gang of rabid
otters*** taking over my building.
**This is also why I'll never be a stripper, but I think that's a good thing.
***Joke shamelessly stolen from the amazing John Finnemore. And yes, this is a footnote within a footnote. It's a toenote.
ETA: I think I was being silly with the whole 'tempting the universe' thing. All is well. Give me a minute, someone's at the door. Oh look,
it's a friendly otter! It's so cute and whiskery. I wonder why there's
foam around its mouth though...
