An Assortment of Not-Rights

(Rereading The Things They Carried by Tim O’Brien)

I’ve probably rewritten this initial post more than 30 times- each time about another topic entirely. Blogs aren’t entirely familiar to me, in that I don’t write in first-person about myself without feeling like an imposter. The pressure to make this initial post an accumulation of everything about me with nothing in particular is immense, and thus, an intense case of writer’s block for almost a month.

I actually write about myself a lot more than I say; most of my writing is fiction. Short stories. 60k words of books only half complete. Poetry. A majority of them have the same characters doing different things in different cities in different stages of their lives meeting in different ways; one of my character’s name is Mara. That’s my self-insert (she does everything I wanted to do differently and embodies all my flaws. It looks better on her), so I suppose I’ve been writing first-person indirectly for a while now; speaking of Mara does feel like a bit of a confession – I hid behind her to feel the things I didn’t want to feel- and of course now I take more responsibility for her growth.

But anyways, blogging. I was so obsessed with being read and being heard that I forgot that I write for myself; a conversation with my professor illuminated me to the idea of a blog being a sort of archive for my personal and writing-related developments, and so now I’m here. Short introduction. Will write more when the words find their way to me.