I Finally Figured Out What it is I Write About
I’ve been writing on Medium on a very regular basis since April of 2017. During my time here, there’s not too much I haven’t touched on. I once had a reader tell me I was all over the place and it didn’t bother me because I very much am.
I’m not a tech blogger but I’ve written about Google and Tinder.
I’m not a political journalist but I’ve written about Donald Trump.
I’ve written articles about Jay-Z, 2PAC, and Eminem but I don’t expect Rolling Stone to come calling anytime soon — as I’m pretty sure I’ve written articles trashing them as a publication as well. If I didn’t, I certainly meant to.
While I’m totally okay with not being the niche’ writer who has his market cornered, as I want to be open to writing about anything I see fit that day — at some point, you have to be able to answer the question “what do you write about?” when people ask — and they do ask.
Up until now, I always gave a half ass, up in the air, and generic answer like “ehh whatever’s on my mind that day”.
Talking about writing is awkward enough for me, I dislike it. I don’t need to make it anymore painful than it already is by not being able to answer very basic questions people ask me.
Sidenote: it is my thought, that one of the dumbest, most pointless and pretentious questions anyone has ever asked a writer is “Have you written anything I’ve read?”
I don’t know Lance, have I? Have you ever heard of Medium? Do you even smartphone, bro? Ever read The King James Bible? I co wrote it.
Who are all these people who don’t know what they have or haven’t read or who wrote what? Also, how would I possibly know what you’ve read?
Okay let me get back on track here. To what it is I think I write about.
I write about my thoughts, opinions and experiences.
But then again, I think we all do. However, I like to think I go above and beyond in doing so. I get personal and I go deep. I don’t hold back and to be frank, I don’t care who agrees with my opinions or thoughts. I’m not worried about who judges me for my past experiences or current ones either. I’m far from refined, I hardly do research and in my own not humble opinion, I’m as raw as they come.
It’s a weird thing to say that out loud — so I don’t. I just come here and write.
But seriously, part of what keeps me writing is because I have confidence in writing. I’m certain I have talent, in this one particular field. Which to me, tells me this is what I need to be doing because I’ve never been as sure as anything as I am about the fact I’m meant to write. I’m better at this than I am at the job I’m paid for five days a week, just don’t tell my employer. Although, they probably already know, as they, once had me write something for them.
So yeah, I come here and I share my thoughts, opinions and experiences with all of you, as well as the folks on Twitter and occasionally FaceBook, through the written word. I’m a decent conversationalist — and a better one after a drink or two. However, this is the one outlet I’ve always felt most comfortable and confident expressing myself through. Whether it ever goes anywhere, well I guess the jury’s still out on that one. All I know is I do this because I have to. I do this because it bothers my soul when I see an article featured by Medium itself, was written by a guy who just got here yesterday and has posted a total of two lifetime. Sometimes I write about Medium itself but again — thoughts, opinions and experiences.
It all fits into this very generic box and I’m happy to finally know what the hell to label the box as. In essence though, I’m still the guy who writes about whatever he sees fit that day. I’ve written poetry, open letters, short and long narratives, opinion and thought pieces. Stories of pain and pleasure, ones readers have told me they found hilarious and others where they have said they teared up as they read it. I write my truths as I know and remember them. When I say I don’t do research it’s mainly because the only kind of required research for the types of stories I write are reaching deep into my own mind, heart and soul and seeing what I pull out that day.
The only piece of fiction I’ve ever written was on an 18 hour drive, in the back of my Mother and Step Father’s car when I was like 17. I read this Janet Evanovich novel my Mom bought me in some truck stop in Virginia and what can I tell you, I’m an easily inspired person. I wrote a total of 14 pages of a story that was going nowhere fast, stopped and never wrote fiction again.
Now if I could only figure out why I have obsessed over this craft like a compulsive maniac from the time I was 12, I might die happy.
