We Need to Talk
A conversation with myself about myself
I’m a man(?) with many interests. I write, act, play guitar, sing (poorly), dance (drunkenly), and create projects I can be proud of... on occasion. I say “on occasion” not because I’m not proud of everything I do, but because I don’t do it as much as I’d like.
For some reason, I find myself hesitant to share — and oftentimes, create.
Because of my arsenal of ways to express myself, ideas don’t come to me in a nice pack and ship condition. I have to develop them, let them marinate, and figure out how to deliver them most effectively. For example: Does this work better in a story or in a song? Or: Would this resonate more with people in video form? Should I tell this story through a Medium article, a script, an Instagram post, a Facebook rant, a Snapchat story, a fucking really creative fart, idk…
With so many different outlets, I try not to work on too many things at a time — after all, my focus is finite. Anybody who’s creative understands: When you’re excited about an idea, it jumps to the top of your to-do list. If you’re lucky, you can get it where it needs to be before another takes its place. But if you’re me, you either fall out of love with the concept before hitting “Publish” (or whatever delivery method you choose), or you feel bad for cheating on one of your other unripened fruits.
My problem is I have so many unfinished ideas that I know I can’t create them all, so I choose to work on none of them.
As a result, I haven’t “put myself out there” in a while. I haven’t felt that rush of pouring everything I have into something and hanging it up for the world to see and judge and share and mock and envy. I’ve fallen into a pit, where sincere, meaningful writing eludes me and I feel like — when I do finish a piece — I’m doing it for someone else.
I tell myself the only way out of this hole is to create something real and purposeful and for me. And then another thing completely different from it, but still genuine, consequential, and exclusive. And then another. I want to line the walls with shit I’ve made for myself, and then when the house is full, invite everybody over for a huge party.
But right now, I can’t write honestly — and honestly, enough is enough.
What the fuck am I talking about?
I’ve been working as a copywriter for a few years now, but only started in an agency setting in early 2016 (unless you’re the hiring manager for one of those jobs I applied to months ago — then I have at least 1–2 years of agency experience).
Agency work was fun at first, and it still is to some extent. I enjoy learning about other people’s businesses and goals, and helping them reach their audiences in ways they can’t themselves. But regardless of how thrilled my boss or client is with the finished product, the words feel mostly empty to me.
So, the reason I feel like I’m writing for someone else is because, most of the time, I am. (Having money is nice, though.)
In my short time as an agency copywriter, I’ve worked with a lot of small business owners, and I must say, their visions and ambition have been truly inspiring. They’re pursuing what they want to do — probably what they’ve wanted to do for a long time — and taking major risks to achieve it. They’re putting themselves out there. And I’m helping them do it.
But as a consequence, I’ve stopped writing for me. I’ll say it’s because I don’t have the time, but that’s a bunch of bullshit. And it’s not like I don’t have material because I certainly do (I recently served on a jury for a murder trial, for Christ’s sake).
So then, what is it? Why am I so hesitant to make something for myself and share it, when I make things for other people and share them every day?
Maybe I’ve grown accustomed to feeding off of somebody else’s passion, and in the process, forgotten how to be creative for myself.
I think ingenuity is like a muscle. The more you work it out, the stronger it becomes. But when you’re not using it, that muscle can weaken. Movements that used to feel so natural become strenuous, so you’ve got to ease yourself back into the exercise routine.
That’s my theory, and that’s my plan.
I don’t want to spend a majority of my time thinking, writing, and creating for other people. The projects I actually give a shit about shouldn’t slip through the cracks, or end up on the back burner.
This one’s for me. Gotta get back in shape.
You’re a hero for reading this. Find more of my writing in Human Parts, Endless Magazine, The Coffeelicious, Life Tips, Slackjaw, Navigating the Sea of Singledom, and The Bigger Picture (I run this publication — submit a piece sometime!). Direct all complaints here.
