Who are we?….This is why we write: to explore the world within our heart and mind.

I am overwrought with ideas, on a constant basis conceptualizing and compartmentalizing a barrage: brand new thoughts generated from connecting seemingly uncorrelated data – to elaborate on later (in notebooks, on odd little pieces of paper, on the margins of meeting notes, in books being read); aspirations, applicable business ideas, anxieties, dreams and nightmares, and from the endless content consumed throughout the day. Cabinets and closets. They spill out, many left to dwindle. me as a spare time writer…how could I sustain a family living two lives? 

I’m not a writer, I just write.

Not Sharing. Occasionally send something to an editor, otherwise, I wrote/write just for me. 

Other reasons for not sharing include:

Why do I write about the future and change in a vacuum? Maybe not a vacuum, but alone. Although an optimist, squaring the future in the face isn’t pleasant these days. It’s a bear I’ve taken on and sharing seems to scare most – so it’s a quiet exercise. It’s pretty ugly what I think about. Gloomy, fact based, not entertaining in any way; it can even hurt to think about it. So why bother, many have said, if it’s not going to change much. I haven’t figured that out yet.

I’ve also learned people steal ideas – all the time. I had an agent hire me for a week, then let me go with no explanation. The next year, poof, a TV show just like mine. 6 months of work. I’ve had consultants steal my data, governments replicate my models, writers take conversations and turn them into paid content. Business try to steal IP. I love being open to those I trust but I’m guarded. 

Narcissism, I find vile. Spewing your opinion as if you are right, this is narcissism. And it’s rampant. Why join the kluge, add to the noise – because my opinion matters so much?…see narcissism.

Fear of failure. Ah, there it is, the lurking insecurity, which every ‘writer’ feels. Nope, that’s that it. I deal with rejection fine.

Letting go. Now, here’s something…letting go of all the things I used to (generally) keep inside. Putting it out there for review. 

What is this then? Not written to be read. 

Writing is therapy, following inner monologue, examining what I am vs. who I want to be, looking around where the present bends toward future, holding onto optimism.

KJS 2016