The Storm is About to Hit

Life hits when you least expect it to. My grandfather is going in for open heart surgery in a little over two weeks and I just had my last day at my current job, so I’m technically unemployed. Not only that, but I’m graduating from college in about 11 days so I’m not only looking at summer jobs and scrambling to get projects and final class portfolios together, but I’m looking into my career as a writer. I don’t have a portfolio… this blog is probably full of grammar and spelling errors, and did I mention I DON’T HAVE A PORTFOLIO! The portfolio is like THE PASSKEY into the “getting paid to write” world. Whether that be as a freelancer or as some other kind of writer. I have no real publishing experience to speak of in my name, let alone my pen name… yeah M.K. is not what my family and friends call me. I know it’s a shock to all two of you.

I use too many ellipses and I don’t know how to keep a schedule apparently with writing. On top of that I wrote an autoethnography thing again and I discovered something interesting about myself. I hate writing… or more I hate the act of writing. I hate what it’s done to me over the past three years, the constant assignments and deadlines and never really writing what I actually want to write.

I just read one of my professor’s profiles on Goodreads. Her job, even more than mine, requires her to read and write all sorts of things. At one point she watched a lot of TV because that was a break from it, which is why she barely ever read for herself, her reading was for work. My reading and writing is for work – well, school at this point. I watch TV and I do Facebook and stuff, anything but read or write for myself in my free time. I don’t even get out and gather new experiences. I just “veg out” as they call it. It’s not right. All the enjoyment of my work has been ripped from me and to escape it I don’t try to find enjoyment in the one thing I’ve always loved.

But here’s the good news. On Saturday I have two job interviews, Lowes and Petco… both places I would enjoy being able to work. One is full time for a few months, the other part time for as long as I want to work there or until they fire me, which I doubt would happen and hope would never happen.  Whichever of these jobs I take, should they be offered to me and I hope they will be, I will no longer have to deal with school. I’m not going back in the fall. So if I’m working and I have free time and free days I can use those for writing and other life things… maybe even have a life while I read and write more.

That being said, I plan to upgrade this blog soon to a paid plan. My domain will change and I’ll be cleaning up everything on the roll and the pages. I’ll probably play around with and change the layout and theme again and I’ll be adding a page/collection of pages for a portfolio of unpublished work. That will all happen over the summer and once I have a secured paying job. I’m also going to start trying to build up my work for freelancing and other jobs. I plan to start submitting more and more work for publication in literary journals and other places. If I could afford to subscribe and not just constantly look at their online archives you can believe I would do it. After finals week, next week, I am going to be doing my best to work on my professional development as a writer and as a person in general.

I have so many goals right now that I don’t know where to start. I guess we’ll see when it happens.

“Become a Writer! It’ll Be Fun!” – They

“Become a Writer! It’ll Be Fun!” – They

Do you ever have one of those days where you know you have to do a bazillion other things, but you can’t think of a single one of them and all you want to do is something else.  That was me yesterday. Today, I seem to not want to do anything.

Yesterday I started story boarding on paper and writing things down for the new piece I have in mind. I’m really excited about that, though I need to start working on some short fiction as well before I let this thing run away with me.


I call it storybooking – a cross between storyboarding and scrapbooking. I like doing arts and crafts on the floor in Robert Bell.

The Tower, is currently in a stage where I have to get things down on paper, but I haven’t started writing it yet. I let it sit for a few days and now I’m incubating the ideas some more, turning them, sitting on them, trying to decide exactly what I’m doing with them. It’s one of my favorite parts of the writing process.

I’m going to let you all in on a little secret about the writing process. The writing… isn’t even my favorite part.

I KNOW! That’s ridiculous!

I actually love the planning and revising more than I love the actual act of writing the story. Planning and revising are relaxing and fun.

In the planning stage I get to relax, look at pieces of what I might use. Order them online and have them delivered. Maybe jot down a few notes or sketch out a floor plan, no heavy lifting.

In revision I get to refine and detail and tidy up. I get to make the real  purpose of the piece shine through.

But the actual writing, that’s the rough part. Sure, there are days where you get into a rhythm and you just go at it until you don’t know where the day went, and those days are great, those are the days I live for in the writing phase. But most of the writing phase is taken up by grunt work and manual labour. It’s blood sweat and tears.

It kind of feels like having a tooth pulled if you didn’t have any kind of anesthetic. (Or so I imagine.)

Writing is painful and today I seem to be avoiding it. I’m nowhere near that stage with The Tower, but I can feel myself avoiding getting to that stage just by not working on the storyboard.

So why do I do it? Why do I write at all?

I write because I have to. I write because if I don’t I’ll go even more insane than I already am.

I don’t know what’s going on right now, but I can feel with every second that I don’t write, the depression and anger creeping back into my life. And that needs to stop.

Prompt: Stranger

One day as you’re sitting down to dinner someone knocks on the door. When you answer they look really familiar, but you can’t place them. This person claims to have been there for every major life event you’ve ever had, and they’re afraid of what the next one will do to you. How do you respond?

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