To write content; or escaping the spiral

This is the first time in over a year that I’ve written anything longer than a standard work email, Facebook event description or an anniversary card. I’ve checked — the last long form piece of content I produced came out June 20th, 2014. It was a great interview with my office dogs. I’m still pretty proud of it.

But I’ve come up against an towering wall in my creativity — I guess some might call it writer’s block — and I’ve decided to take charge of it.

I moved to New York City from LA on April 23, 2014 with 600 dollars, a car, some clothes, my 2 guitars and my original 1977 Star Wars poster. Bright eyed, bushy tailed (wait, why is that a turn of phrase?), full of hopes and dreams of making it in the big city. I had 3 friends in the New York area, one of which left a month after I arrived. I was excited to really take my first steps into national advertising, but I had absolutely no clue what I was getting myself into.

I dove headfirst into my work on Johnny Appleseed Hard Apple Cider (yes, it’s a brand guideline to mention say the entire product name.) I was spending 10+ hours a day thinking up content calendars — 30 days/20 piece of content. I was worked to the bone, I was stressed out, and I couldn’t find time to finish a blog post, but I felt happier than I had in a while. It wasn’t a pure happiness, of course. When you’re worried your hair is falling out because you work too hard, you can’t be deeply happy. But at that time, creativity flowed through me because I forced it out every day: thinking in brand voice, worrying about kerning and nervous about engagement rates.

But I left the agency and that was when I started losing my ability to write.

Writer’s Block/Origin Story

I think there’s a lot of reasons that I couldn’t write. One of the biggest reasons, which I suspect is something everyone faces at some point in their lives, is that they don’t feel “good enough”. Obviously, this is a dangerous way of thinking. When I didn’t think my writing was quality, I started questioning everything about myself. It’s a downward spiral that’s difficult to understand because it’s so deeply personal, but here goes:

I was an avid reader growing up. I would be enraptured, falling in love with the feeling of being transported into another world, built up entirely from someone’s imagination. The ideas of sci-fi and fantasy firmly took hold and I would escape my boring, every day reality with thoughts of cities contained in spaceships, wizards that use other’s life energy to fuel their magic and vampires living in New Orleans in the late 1800’s. (Fuck you, Anne Rice is amazing.) Years before JK Rowling had Harry Potter reading under his covers by wandlight — “LUMOS!” — I would be reading Animorphs by flashlight. If my parents actually calculated how many D batteries they had to buy over the years, I’d probably be disowned.

When I reached high school, I started reading less. Significantly less. Whereas my elementary school’s little library couldn’t contain my enthusiasm — I was yelled at by my dad for reading the Jonathan Kellerman book “Bad Love” at age 12 — I just couldn’t keep up with reading when I turned 14. I would focus more on my music, locking myself in my room for hours while I just listened to metal, hardcore and of course, emo.

Once I left high school, I barely read at all. Maybe 3 or 4 books a year. This is where I truly felt lost. I didn’t graduate college. I took a bunch of courses straight out of high schools, but I was juggling a musician’s touring/recording schedule and never ended up following through. I fell into advertising because it felt good to write, to create to imagine, but I could never get over this loss of self I seemingly experienced.

It’s a big part of why I felt inadequate. Who wants to read something by someone who peaked at 10 years old? Who am I to run with the big dogs of advertising?

Despite the massive amounts of reinforcement I received from coworkers, my girlfriend and random social media followers (I got some major props from my brand’s customers), I felt this was just lip service.

Which leads me to the next arm of the spiral I entered. I was too scared no one would like my writing, so I stopped pouring out myself to the page. I’d tell myself that I was under-qualified and the fact that I don’t have a college degree somehow serves as a detriment — that for some reason, I didn’t have a grasp on the English language (I work as a social media manager…based on some posts I see, I know that I’m Dante compared to a large part of the USA). The words I used, the tone I conveyed, the verbalization of my imagination — I felt it wasn’t comparable to other well-respected internet denizens.

Some thoughts that are going through my head at this very moment:

• Is this post too bland?
• Does it seem like I’m trying too hard?
• Do I need to include more imagery or allusions?
• Does it matter that I don’t have some well narrated story to describe that I’ve hit rock bottom?
• Will anyone actually read all of this?
• Is it worth my time to actually type this?
• Should I get a slice of pizza? (Answer: Probably.)

Do any of these questions actually matter?

At my lowest point, I wouldn’t go out. I’d sit around and find ways to escape reality in a different way: TV and video games. I became a hermit and wouldn’t educate myself on the world — stopped reading news articles and even stopped watching cute puppy videos! Whereas I used to have strong, outspoken and thought out opinions on things that were going on in the world, there was a pretty big gap in my knowledge base for everything.

My saving grace was my girlfriend, Megan Solberg, who elevated me in ways I can’t even begin to describe. I rediscovered myself with her love, I rekindled my curiosity & zest for life and started going out and interacting with people. Actual, human people! I found that someone I wanted more than anythign wanted me in return. Because of her, I realized I had to take ownership of my life, realize my self worth and to actually evaluate my life and where I stand in the bigger picture; I might’ve changed, but so has the rest of the world. 10 years ago *fuck, I’m 26!* the everything different and much more accessible. I started to explore new passions (I like law dramas!?), new directions and new places.

Falling in love was what changed everything for me. Not just with the beautiful, smart, vivacious woman I was with, but with myself.

Meg made (and makes) me realize that, all clichés aside, I’m worth it.