I did not finish my novel during November, and, in fact, I still have not finished it. I want to, but every time I open it to write, I just start to feel sick to my stomach and ashamed I let myself down.
The reason I didn't finish? Because I'm a coward with low self-esteem. I post tons of things on Facebook, from song lyrics to rants to pictures of puppies, you name it. So I thought, hey, I'll post a tiny piece of my story, what could go wrong? The best thing that could have happened would have been to get a like from all of my friends, and have it shared around, and boom. Motivation to finish. What happened, you ask? Nothing. Nobody liked it, my aunt posted a comment and so did my mom. I didn't come out and say that it was something I wrote, so I'm probably just being super paranoid and imagining no one likes my writing, but then no one will probably even read this so I don't even know what to think.
The place I work at just wears on my soul and makes me depressed and angry and self-conscious, and did I mention angry? If you want a job that makes you feel completely inferior and makes you believe yourself a fuck-up, I highly suggest working in a corporately owned print and retail shop. (And I am, of course, being sarcastic. If you value your soul, stay away from retail.)
I don't care about fame or fortune, really, I just want to be able to make a living doing something I'm passionate about. They say "Find a job you love and you'll never work a day in your life." Well, someone make theatre something more than a hobby for people here in St Louis, and I'll never have to work a day in my life again. Or, someone help give me the courage to leave this place and take a chance for once in my life.
The reason I didn't finish? Because I'm a coward with low self-esteem. I post tons of things on Facebook, from song lyrics to rants to pictures of puppies, you name it. So I thought, hey, I'll post a tiny piece of my story, what could go wrong? The best thing that could have happened would have been to get a like from all of my friends, and have it shared around, and boom. Motivation to finish. What happened, you ask? Nothing. Nobody liked it, my aunt posted a comment and so did my mom. I didn't come out and say that it was something I wrote, so I'm probably just being super paranoid and imagining no one likes my writing, but then no one will probably even read this so I don't even know what to think.
The place I work at just wears on my soul and makes me depressed and angry and self-conscious, and did I mention angry? If you want a job that makes you feel completely inferior and makes you believe yourself a fuck-up, I highly suggest working in a corporately owned print and retail shop. (And I am, of course, being sarcastic. If you value your soul, stay away from retail.)
I don't care about fame or fortune, really, I just want to be able to make a living doing something I'm passionate about. They say "Find a job you love and you'll never work a day in your life." Well, someone make theatre something more than a hobby for people here in St Louis, and I'll never have to work a day in my life again. Or, someone help give me the courage to leave this place and take a chance for once in my life.
