In which myriad insecurities come to light
So. I have an excellent idea for a book. I say "excellent" because A) the idea of writing it brings me great, personal happiness, and because B) frankly, I think it's a publishable idea, which is better than I've been able to say about most of my book ideas to date. This is largely because I am twenty, which is, in the grand scheme of things, still, essentially, childhood, and most of the ideas I've had before this point have been the ideas of a child. I admit readily that this idea may not be any better. But I feel a little better about this one, a little more progressive and forward-thinking and active, and, well...let me tell you a story.
When I was a kid, my parents signed me up for all kinds of activities.
When I was three, I was in a ballet class; I tried to walk home from it every day.
When I was five, I was in a summer camp; I tried to walk home from it every day.
When I was nine, I was in jazz dancing class (and what even is that); I complained every day that I wanted to quit.
When I was eleven, I was on a swim team; I complained every day about wanting to quit.
When I was thirteen, I took yoga, and never wanted to go.
When I was fifteen, I was on the chess team, and never wanted to go.
When I was seventeen, I was in an extracurricular art club, and never wanted to go.
And now, at twenty, I never want to go to work.
But from the time I was as young as I can even remember, I decided I wanted to "make stories". I told my mom that I wanted to "make stories" before I was old enough to even recall my actions. I was making up these stories from the time I was old enough to even know what stringing words together meant.
And it is the only thing I have always, always been happy with.
And you know what? God damn it, I am going to be a writer, because I might be just a kid, and I might fail at keeping up with things, but this is what I do, and no one is going to stop me.
One day, I am going to have books published, and people - even if only a very few people - are going to like them, and even if, even if they don't, I'll have spent my life doing the thing that makes me most happy, even if I have to work a life-long string of terrible, minimum-wage jobs to do it.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have a book to write.
When I was a kid, my parents signed me up for all kinds of activities.
When I was three, I was in a ballet class; I tried to walk home from it every day.
When I was five, I was in a summer camp; I tried to walk home from it every day.
When I was nine, I was in jazz dancing class (and what even is that); I complained every day that I wanted to quit.
When I was eleven, I was on a swim team; I complained every day about wanting to quit.
When I was thirteen, I took yoga, and never wanted to go.
When I was fifteen, I was on the chess team, and never wanted to go.
When I was seventeen, I was in an extracurricular art club, and never wanted to go.
And now, at twenty, I never want to go to work.
But from the time I was as young as I can even remember, I decided I wanted to "make stories". I told my mom that I wanted to "make stories" before I was old enough to even recall my actions. I was making up these stories from the time I was old enough to even know what stringing words together meant.
And it is the only thing I have always, always been happy with.
And you know what? God damn it, I am going to be a writer, because I might be just a kid, and I might fail at keeping up with things, but this is what I do, and no one is going to stop me.
One day, I am going to have books published, and people - even if only a very few people - are going to like them, and even if, even if they don't, I'll have spent my life doing the thing that makes me most happy, even if I have to work a life-long string of terrible, minimum-wage jobs to do it.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have a book to write.