I never wrote anything that mattered and don’t know where to start

I’m thirty and am no where near the life goal I set a long time ago to write a book or movie. I gave myself all the standard options — short story, fiction, nonfiction etc. At this point of the adult work grind (what I like to call, ‘The Big Fade’), I don’t feel creative enough to make something up or smart enough to document a new topic. And are you kidding me with the length?!? Everyone I know zones out after an email hits 50 words, so I’ve been trained to keep it short. How could I hit 200 pages?

I started college like lots of other cerebral listeners as a psych major. Then I realized, in the famous words of Raymond K. Hessel of apartment B, “Too. Much. School.” So I switched to English thinking I could read and write “real good” and was above average creatively. Fast forward through heartbreak, confusion, and consumption, I dropped out and did whatever anyone in my situation in Wilmington, Delaware did — entry level bank job. During which I did another standard 90s-00s thing — became a marketing major and got my degree. Using a marketing degree in the way we all fantasize occurs about as often as becoming a professional athlete.

Present day is very average with elements of greatness. Still, I feel like there may still be a pilot light of creativity on somewhere, but who has the time? I keep of plethora of Evernotes ranging from movie ideas to stand-up routines that I never seem to be able to materialize or harvest. My favorite one is probably ‘Curb Ideas’ that I would shamelessly pitch to Larry David. Many are inappropriate, however: why do people leave bottle caps on counters? Do you pound or pull to remove straw wrappers? I put both toilet seats down — gender equality.

At this rate, when I’m 40 it will be the new 16 and I can get another crack at it. I mean, I started reading Medium and produced this little story, which is about 1500% more than I’ve put to paper since college. However, it’s sat in my phone long enough to have to update the age. I’ve got it pretty good; perhaps I don’t need to write. Although thinking about hitting ‘publish’ finally is a pretty good feeling. Maybe cynicism can give way to prosperity.