A Writer's Legit Lament

Here now..............................................


After more than a week of not writing nor publishing nor posting anything in my beloved blog, I can think only of posting the following:


Sometimes, I grow tired of writing, no matter how fun and freeing and creative it can be. No matter, even, how very, very important and essential (even quintessential) it can be.

One reason for this slight, occasional aversion to writing is unacknowledgement and non-recognition. That is, never really being recognized (except perhaps negatively) for my various expressive contributions to mankind's vast body of literature and poetry....and especially never being complimented, never being constructively analyzed and criticized, never being able to use my actual name, and never being truly published or paid. This is my gift, my talent...the greatest of them all, and yet I remain unknown...when I stand head and shoulders above all my competition. Not to mention, no pay.....I can not make a living as a fictive writer.....and, as much as I like writing and the concept of being paid for it, I do not envision that my transition to journalism would be a wholly easy and simple one. I have certain fictive influences, fictive impulses, and the need to exaggerate and entertain and make funny or at least fantastic and interesting...that pressing, all-encompassing need, and these would take place and take over in the event of me ever having to write a 100% true article...especially if, to my mind, the subject matter was as dry as dust. Therefore, frustration and a kind of an illegitimate, unnecessary and unfair failure dogs me, follows me everywhere, and encapsulates me. What am I to do-I, who must write these foolish jeremiads and lamentations online?

I have no idea what course to pursue. I am, unfortunately and unfairly despite all attempts (and recently there have been endless inroads attempted by me), unprofessional and unpaid...but not uneducated nor undisciplined.