So yeah, I’m a writer, and I write.
Oh, wait, you were expecting more. Um. Alright. I’ve got two very interesting sections for you: “About Me” and “About the Blog.”
Who the hell am I?
I’m a nobody. It’s true. Once I was a barista at Starbucks; before that I was a creative writing student; before that I was an idiot teenager. Nowadays I call myself a writer, and yet I don’t really believe it, and am not sure that’ll ever change. Despite many assurances that I’m good at what I do, I’ve never landed a job as a writer, or won a writing contest, or gotten published. I could never even net very many comments on my fan fiction. (This is probably how and why I started swearing so much.) So what the hell do I think I’m doing here, calling myself a writer?
This is me raging against my fate.
This is me saying I am going to publish that goddamn story and then the one after that–or if I don’t, I’ll go down swinging.
Also: showing off my cats. See the footer for all the cuteness.
What’s with this blog?
Writing on the Wallpaper is supposed to be a learning experience. Previous blogging experience–if you can call it that–took place on Livejournal, which encourages a very self-centered style. While I’m not condemning that (I still use mine, and it’s great to keep up with old friends once in a while), I’d like to move past purely personal writing and try to offer something of value to other people.
This is harder than it sounds. With writing especially, I firmly believe that there’s no True Way, and when it comes to writing while also dealing with anxiety and depression, the challenges are even more personal. I might write about the same stuff everyone else does (how to plot, how to character, how to fail fail fail), but I personally would like to discuss it in more depth than just “Five Steps to Great Characterization,” and I would also like to try to be open about the barriers I encounter while writing.
The name–Writing on the Wallpaper–was inspired by The Yellow Wallpaper, a story which I never really liked, and yet feels more and more relevant every year. Nobody has actively suppressed my writing, although many people in my life don’t value it. But I suppressed it, and I paid for that, and I wonder sometimes if that was a direct contributor to some of the hardest times in my life, because when I finally allowed myself to write again, the relief was so intense I felt it physically.
Also, and unfortunately, being of the gender I am, some people still don’t consider me a person. But I’ve got goals and dreams to think about, so fuck them, and on with the writing.
You don’t get any photos of me. I’m an overweight, middle-aged housewife, so my cats are much cuter.