I have made promise after promise that I will write more, and write better but here I am once more at a loss for words. I have been writing for as long as I can remember, but there is nothing distinctive about my style, or my voice. It makes me very insecure. Some days I write things I am proud of, most days I just cringe. The best form of distraction is reading the works of my favorite writers -please indulge me, I feel a need to name them- Marla, Kai, Jake, Kara, Apa, Patricia and Issa – and wonder if I will ever create something that will move people as much as their work has moved me. There is depth and/or entertainment even in the most mundane things they create (personal anecdotes are my favorite). I just want to drown in the words they weave.
But if I’ve learned anything in the past 23 years, from the golden age of Xanga to the kings and queens (and trolls) of Tumblr, it is to never choose to yield.
Even if you constantly have to go back to the beginning.