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Focus Pocus

I recently had brunch with a dear friend, who is also my mentor (whether she knows or agreed to be or not) and we were talking about my writing, my fundraising struggles and brainstorming ways to get my writing into people’s hands and ears and hearts.  She had some really great ideas.  A few of which I am putting into motion now.  I recently sent an inquiry to a coffee shop near my house about the possibility of starting a monthly reading series.  It would be a good way for me to get over my stage fright as well as meet other writers in the area.  She also suggested that I give this blog more focus, that I write and consistently post about something or some things I know about.  This is my struggle.  What do I know about?  Or better yet, what do I know enough about that I would feel comfortable writing about it at least a few times a week?

The thing is, I’m not very eloquent or well spoken.  In fact, most of the time, my interactions are clunky and awkward and I feel like I’m presenting myself like an old shoe.  Hell, I’m still not sure that I should be doing this.  This: writing a book, trying to get my words/thoughts/poems out there into the word.  I mean, I can’t imagine any other thing in life I have wanted to do more than this, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I should do it right?  I think I’m deathly afraid of having American Idol syndrome.  Every year, hundreds of thousands of people audition, genuinely thinking they’re talented – people encouraged them to audition – and they are awful.  I’m sorry, some of them are so, so bad it hurts.  I don’t want to be that.  The closer I get to all of this becoming a reality, the more instances I have of, “You should just stop now, before it gets awkward.  You’re not really going through with this are you?  Publishing your middle school diary love poems? Lame.”

Yes, I have conversations with myself and you know what?  I’m a total asshole.  An asshole no closer to a theme for this blog.

Ugh.

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