A History of My Peculiarly Wonderful Relationship With Writing

I’ll be honest, I was never the person who wrote something and showed it to a loved one or a friend. In fact, I’ve never written something, handed it to someone and said “Look what I wrote”. It’s literally never happened.

I just wrote. What was on my mind, something I found funny, what I was bothered by — it was just what I did to pass time in class and at home.

At the same time, it wasn’t some well kept secret I was able to write. It’d leak out through random school projects and assignments and I’d just downplay it. I assumed teachers were just being nice. Or when a piece of writing of mine would stand out above the other 29 kids in my class, I’d simply consider my competition. Nine of them probably didn’t even turn the assignment in.

At age 10 I was asked to read the speech I wrote, at my fifth grade graduation and did so. Again, I didn’t think much of it. Just putting words down on paper, pretty basic stuff. People kept telling me I was good at it, so I kept doing it.

In sixth grade, I joined the school newspaper. It was at this point I realized how much I truly enjoyed writing yet couldn’t stand being told what to write about. I would turn in what amounted to satirical versions of what we were assigned to write about. My English teacher and head of the “publication” pulled me aside to compliment my work and writing. She basically pleaded with me to just take the assignment serious. Much to her dismay, I never did.

We ended up meeting in the middle. I’d do the assignment given if the paper would publish something else I wrote that week, a piece her and I agreed on. She went out of her way to tell me much of my work wasn’t middle school paper appropriate but that I was also a better writer than most students she had taught. She’d be the first of more than a few to tell me to keep writing. Thanks Ms. Geller, you made me believe I might maybe could — despite the fact you’d hate that last part.

Then, as I’ve touched on before, I began writing raps during class instead of doing school work. Then at home as well, on top of whatever else I was writing, be it that days thoughts or what have you. I’d write a lot when I was angry and I was angry a lot of the time. I was writing compulsively at one point. Actually, I might still be. The written word always been my go to outlet.

I’ve been asked to write and read at family members funerals and weddings. Obligatory yet honorary best man speeches as well as eulogies. Friends have paid me to write their papers, despite the fact they were in college and I was not. I got A’s — for them. I kind of tried to turn this into a side business, infuriating certain family members for a reason I still don’t quite understand.

Pay to write words or get paid to write words, what’s the end game here?

Then came blogging, a term I still look down upon in disgust and am ashamed to be associated with. I can’t speak for anyone else but I write — I don’t blog.

I did it because I enjoyed it not because it was trendy. I just felt I had stories worth telling and was reading a lot of Tucker Max at the time. Thank God for that as well. I read his blog and then his book and said to myself ‘I can do that and I think that’s what I want to do with the rest of my life’. Here I am.

I started with a Tumblr blog I would only post to when I was high basically. Yet somehow it was still well received and I was still genuinely enjoying it so I kept doing it. My writing back then was filled with anger. Unlike today, I kind of actually had a niche back then — the angry guy who would put a funny spin on what he was mad about. My ex girlfriend, my neighbors who owned a rooster, my adventures on public transportation and my drunken escapades.

Eventually I moved to WordPress. By this time I was starting to grow up a bit and trying to get my shit together. Though I was no longer living like a drunken animal, much of the anger was still there. Just better articulated and thoughts that were slightly less scrambled. The major setback with WordPress was the primary way to market what I was writing was through Facebook. I’d share whatever I wrote there and it basically both lived and died there.

Though one day one of my posts went semi viral, gaining an unexpected 2,400 views and just over a hundred shares. Just another sign to keep going.

At some point I realized it only cost $18 a year for a domain name, taught myself the basics of website design and moved my best work to a domain I think I might still own — www.beingbrianbrew.com.

Again the problem was it all lived and died on Facebook because I had no marketing experience and no marketing or advertising budget.

Finally, I discovered Medium. Not just a well formatted and simplistic place to write but a well curated community of readers and writers alike who not only were interested in hearing what I had to say but had plenty to say themselves.

Back in September of last year I was invited to participate in the Medium Paid Partner Program and it’s truly opened up a new world to me. One where I get paid to write. From there I began to submit my stories to online publications outside of Medium who pay writers such as www.splicetoday.com and they’ve been paying me for my stories since. It has truly been a blessing.

I know my potential is endless as long as I keep writing and cannot wait to see where it may take me. The connections I’ve made and the amazingly talented and dedicated people I’ve met along the way alone have been worth it.

It has been a long, strange and strenuous journey and I can’t wait to see what lies ahead. Thank you to everyone who has been with me along the way.