Warning: Drunk Ramblings Ahead.
Supposedly, you’re not supposed to blog when you’ve had a night out. I kinda let my hair down, here on this blog. I haven’t come out with my real name, so I feel like I can be completely honest. Me, my real self, love me or hate me. I love people, and I love their quirks. So I probably borage (that’s not the right word) the world, with my quirks.
Anyway, I love my friends. I have the coolest friends, I can’t tell you.
I’m one of those girls, who when they have a drink, they love the whole damn world. Oh heck, you guys hear me talk every day. I pretty much love people every day.
And you know what, I’m sorry, but I have the coolest readers. I know it’s not "cool" to love one’s readers, and I know that I should act all professional and detached and stuff, but I have to tell you, I think my readers are the coolest people ever
Maybe ... two readers write me a week, maybe a month. I’m nothing, once in awhile, I’ll get maybe three readers in a week. But I’m just sayin’.
They’re just so darned nice. I suppose when I get my website up, I’m going to have to act like it’s run of the mill. I suppose I’m going to have to act like I’m too cool to get too enthused about my readers, but I have to say: they are my favorite people in the whole damn world.
Maybe other people feel differently. Maybe other people get so much reader mail, that maybe it’s annoying. But I don’t know what to say to my readers. I don’t connect my pseudonyms, but I can tell you, if I didn’t teach, and if I didn’t try to act all calm and collected?
My readers are the best damn people. I can’t believe how lucky I am. I have absolutely no idea why they write such nice things, maybe because I write in a niche, and there’s not that many authors, and I write so many words to pay the bills, but ... I can honestly say that I try, every damn day, to write better for them. I wish I could let my hair down and tell them that I may fail them, but I always keep them in mind when writing, and I always endeavor to live up to the things they hope for.
Whether or not I succeed, is another story. But I hope that something in my writing transmits how much I appreciate and respect them. They tell me such intimate, vulnerable things. Do you know how special a gift that is? And how inadequate I feel when I write back polite? With the right words? With the--*snort of disgust*--professional words?
The right words are always stupid and inadequate, you know? Maybe these are the ramblings of a girl who has forgotten how to go out and have a night on the town (too old!), but ... I wish I could transmit, how very grateful I am, and how very much I respect and take to heart what they say.
I truly write for them. Truly. Bank aside. Myself aside. At the end of the day, I write because ... I respect my readers. Whether they say this or that story was not my best, whether they say my ending sucked, whether or not they write the nice things ... I write for them.
I know the "cool" thing is to write for oneself. I know the "artistic" thing is to write for oneself. But goddamnit, I write every single word for the few who read me. I hope they know how the "professional" replies are ... so much less than I feel. How the "professional" replies are ... because I have no words. Because we all have life’s missions. And maybe I’m supposed to just affect the world in terms of little seconds, of little moments away from their real lives. Maybe I’m here to understand and respect that little vulnerable kernel that is in all of us.
God, I sound like an idiot. Nevermind. Rambling of a drunk girl who’s happy. Am I going to have to delete this when I launch my website in a few weeks, with my real name?
And here I am, rambling, when I have a blog under my pseudonym. Why am I rambling here, when I feel so grateful to those elsewhere? Why can’t I be "cool" and yet, express my gratitude? Why can’t I tell them, gawddarnit, but I just love that you write me?
It’s so uncool. And I can only write it here, because you guys don’t know me, don’t know my writing, and compared to all the NY Bestselling Authors out there, I’m Ms. No One.
Most of you who pop by, are writers. We’re words people. Doesn’t it drive you crazy when you feel so grateful and you’re at a loss for words? Words are our thing, our ammunition, our expression. What do we do when they fail us? When we just ramble on idiotically, and have no idea what to say?
Speaking of loving the whole world, I love how you guys give me something to think about when I have a thought that’s .. off. And I love how you make me think.
Oh gawd, I really am drunk. Well, if you only knew the two days I’ve had ...
Okay, really. Let your hair down. Tell it like it really is. Don’t be cool, be honest. Who do you write for?