I have just spent the last hour or so going through a giant plastic tote of paper. All kinds of paper. Full wirebound notebooks, scraps of paper torn from larger paper, the back of a vet receipt, a torn up Starbucks bag, and soooo much hotel stationery. And what was all this paper? Scribblings and scratchings. Some of which would go on to be something better. Notes and notes and notes and notes on anything and everything I've ever written. Because that is how writing works. It is a snatch of a thought here, a phrase there and when this occurs I never have the notebook or the folder I'm keeping those bits organized in. Nope, I am always in a car or at a gas station or in the middle of a conversation. So, the back of this envelope will have to do. So will the back of a receipt, an old 5th grade notebook from a child who has long since left middle-school behind, and these loose index cards in a junk drawer.
I was just telling Jonathan, today, that I feel a little frustrated because I don't think I have anything to say. This frustration stems from the larger conversation about an "author's platform" that has been hotly debated on Threads. Authentic creation takes time and refinement, which flies directly in the face of the fast-moving electrical storm that is the digital age. The scroll demands content to feed it. If you want to be relevant, you have to feed it. If you want to rank in the algorithm, you must feed it. If you want to be recommended, gain exposure, or go viral, you have to feed it. But the scroll is a beast with an unrelenting appetite; it demands far more than it is willing to give. And, y'all, it is exhausting trying to come up with constant new and fresh and witty stuff to push out into the world at a regular clip, especially when you are in the long-game process of creating a piece of work. AND you have a job AND you have a family AND you have to think about every meal you are going to eat AND your poor eyes can only take so much screen time before it all gets fuzzy. Personally, I just can't juggle it all.
But, oh, the tyranny of should. Writers should be out there. They should be a part of the conversation. They should be jockeying for likes and retweets and hot takes, because this is how they say to build an audience. Not only should they create books and short stories and essays and scripts at a frequent pace so as to stay front of mind, but then they should also rejoice in the opportunity to have a part-time, unpaid job as a social media influencer?
Do you know how difficult it is to get enough quiet in your life and mind to bang out a novel? That doesn't just happen in this loud modern age. And if anyone tells you otherwise, they are a bot or a liar.
So, you can see why I worry I don't have anything (or enough) to say.
But, I have a bin upstairs in a closet that seems to indicate otherwise. And yeah, some of it was just junk. While rooting around in there I noticed I had all these folders, some of which were already populated with little snippets of ideas. I took this further today by sorting the new stacks of loose scraps into these various folders. When it was all said and done, I had at least three good project ideas populated with words I'd already actually written.
Turns out, I do have ideas. I do have things to say. I have taken the trip down the mental rabbit hole and jotted down a few notes while I was there (on a bright orange Post-it note). And, with a little bit of organization, they may become fully formed and completed projects one day. Really, that is the platform I'm shooting for- a body of work, not a bunch of micro posts churned into the scroll with photos of my cat.