Lucien's Lil Nook

Sometimes it’s really hard to figure out what you want to write about, what I want to write about. I feel like I have lots of ideas, just constantly swirling around my head, then I go to the computer and I just sit there, staring at the screen, willing my fingers to type. I write a budget, journal, take notes on what to write, how to begin a career in writing, or ways to find a job after college. It’s not like I’ve seen hundreds of others videos, saying the same tips in different words or just researched new functions for my budget spreadsheet. I’ve emptied five ink cartridges on my favorite pen trying to figure out why I can’t write, or what I’m supposed to be writing about. And even with all this prep, I still can’t figure out what I feel compelled to write.

Part of it, of course, is nerves. Recently graduated from college, I moved to Fort Collins, following my boyfriend who goes to Colorado State, and have been basically loafing around for the past month and a half, living off the money I received for graduation. I have tons of things written on my computer and in my journals. Admittedly, they’re me thought-blasting my anxieties and worries, and of course, I find them insufficient for the public eye. But why do I spend so much time reflecting like this? I’ve prepared myself profusely over the past few weeks, studied up on writing styles and grammar rules, read over article inspiration ideas and fiction prompts, I’ve even read and re-read books and short stories that I’ve enjoyed. But nothing can stop you like anxiety.

I’ve never been keen to be seen by the public eye. I posted frequently on my social media in high school, but I hated how much I fixated on the amount of likes, comments, and visibility I got, so I quit pretty soon into college. I also subsisted on the validation other people gave me, fueling and validating my actions, which made me my own worst advocate. This combination of personality and character traits made me the last candidate in becoming a freelance writer, but it was something I had dreamed of becoming. Especially after getting treatment for my mental health, I had a new drive to become self-sufficient and dive deep into this new world. I wanted to write for a living, and the first step on that journey (after monumental practice) was to advocate for myself, and get on the internet. It’s weird, dipping your toe into the ocean of the internet. Even with new-found-medication-floaties, I’m beyond cautious and frankly, terrified. I have always had to put monumental work into social interactions, and social media, to me, is like having thousands of conversations at once. I burned out at two. How the hell am I supposed to to this?

I have no right answer. I’m not writing this to give advice, tell you how I overcame my faults, persisted, and became wildly successful. I write this as this same person I’ve been describing, terrified and meek. But instead of letting it control me and be bogged down by future complications, I’m gonna take this chance to just start it. Just write. Forget about everything else, and get some god damn work out there.

This will be my first post, but hopefully not my last. Fuck all to what I think might happen and my anxieties I’ll fail—or worse, ridiculed. I wish you the best if you’re also starting your own writing journey, and if you’re some much more experience than me, I’ll hope to join you in those ranks soon.