Write or Not.

I was remarking to a friend the other day, that I'm using this blog as a practice ground, disciplining myself to write, publish, and accept that there may be someone reading this someday. Someone that isn't a friend and doesn't love me. Someone with an unbiased opinion, someone that will take what I write at face value, not knowing me. What I have written will stand by itself, or not. That is almost as scary as sending this address to people that I love and care about and inviting them to read what I've written. Their opinion is biased. They take what I write and incorporate what they know, all their observations and preconceived ideas of me, and add my writing to that, or add that to my writing.....I think.....Maybe I'm too sensitive....Or not sensitive enough.

I also confessed that what I've written so far of my "Excellent Adventures" isn't very deep or personal. I've offered some anecdotes, some editorial ideas, fluffy surface stuff. There's been a whole lot more going on.

Some of it's on Word documents on my desktop. Some of it has taken the form of a fiction novel, the very beginnings of a fiction novel, the teeny tiny first stirrings of a potential novel. How do you go about writing a fiction novel? Do you make an outline, or just start writing and see what comes out? I can barely remember what I've written a sentence from now, what'll I do with Chapters? Will I have to write it all in one sitting? Does the idea just evolve from an unformed vague concept? I'm not so sure I can even make real people seem three dimensional on paper, let alone manufacture character and personality. And I just may be boring. Or unintelligible.

So, how long can I go before I write something of substance. Something that touches the deep, secret parts of my psyche...you know, those desires, convictions and feelings we believe to be unique but really aren't because the human experience is essentially the same for everyone, just tweaked. Circumstances are the stuff of legend. Coincidences can be so clever, or cliche. Shouldn't I know the difference between a fable and a fairy tale? And poetry honestly escapes me. I like Shel Silverstein and Dr. Seuss, but really as much as I revere Shakespeare, his sonnets are just too damn much work! Do I really have anything worth saying that's worth reading? Dear God, what if 2000 years from now, something of mine endures and someone tries to ascribe universal meaning to my narcissistic ramblings? Will I ever have a truly memorable sound bite?

This is a lot of responsibility. Or, just maybe, it's totally irresponsible. I'm having fun putting words on paper. I really DON'T care if anyone ever reads this. And while I want to be adored, at the end of the day, it really doesn't matter what ANYONE thinks. Not even me. Or especially me.

So time is short. Maybe I ought to take a writing course....or will that just ruin everything?