I guess my journaling is a kind of prayer.
Everything I do in the morning is a kind of prayer.
I journal, I dance, I bow to the almighty (whatever that may be – come at me atheists), I write fiction.
All of it is a prayer to the God of living while pieces of skin shed away.
I’d rather do it for that than the desire to be powerful or famous.
I think there is a good motive to what I want to do in life.
But at the back of it is also a need to tell people that I have done what I did.
Hey, I got into grad school! (I didn’t, but for example).
Hey, I’ve got a girlfriend!
Hey, we’re getting married!
Hey, we’re expecting!
Hey, I got the job!
You know how it is. The pull of social media. It’s not enough to do the thing, but to announce the thing? Mm.
So, what to do about that?
Nothing really I think.
Of course it feels good to announce the thing. So just do it. The danger comes in expecting fulfillment from the boasting.
Boasting never brings you fulfillment, but it does sometimes make one feel vaguely…swelled. For a while.
Then the swelling goes down and the post sinks…sinks…sinks down your Facebook wall.
And the event itself sinks into the past.
So, as they say in Young Frankenstein (God, why does this feel a little like a Ted Cruz – style impression? Maybe because it’s just ever so slightly misapplied?) – “Let him! Let him!”
After you announce the thing, it’s time to bone, skin, and cook the big fish you caught, and no one’s ever interested in reading about that process. Not unless you are famous. And if you are famous, surely you struggle with the attention as much as you like it. Whether you like it or not, it has become part of your job.
So, go ahead, announce the thing, fine, then let it go. It’s no crime. Don’t cling.
Maybe, worse than that is my desire to create things…and then cherish them.
I don’t even know if my creations are good or bad, but like the ammonia-based pleasures of smelling my own farts, I love to finger them. Paw at them. Read them over endlessly.
I’ve read my little books about Shakespeare nearly every day before fiction writing this week. Why?
Because it’s all mine.
It’s like marveling at myself in the mirror.
And it doesn’t lead in any direct way to editing or anyone else actually reading the thing.
Let that go too.
It would be a lie to say it’s a crime.
Just as it would be an exaggeration to say that it’s helpful.
I have no need for more shadows of evil and guilt in my life, unless they’re strictly necessary.
I think it’s important to continue to pray while I’m alive. To create while I’m alive, and give those creations to others, and take theirs.
It’s a trade.
And if, once in a while, I want to announce the thing or sniff the thing I made ad nauseum…
It’s no great loss –
– (And no great prize) –