Still a Bad Scene, Still Everyone’s Fault

It’s been a few years since I earned my BA in journalism (almost 14 to be exact) and I’ve met, worked under and studied with many of editors, peer groups and college professors to try and brush up on what’s left of my non-existent writing career these days. Not that I see my foot back in the full-time door of reporting or proofreading in New York (I blame over competition of NYU grads who are willing to work for free and the blogosphere) let alone Detroit (where the recession hit before it was cool anywhere else), but as I’ve mentioned before, writing has consistently been the only thing that’s made me happy over the years no matter how many times I’ve tried to find the means move on to something else , so it would be nice to look as if I know what I’m doing every now and then.

Now I’m not going to go on another long rant on former editors who’ve never run my stories after weeks of research and writing or worse, rewrote them without my consent, nor am I taking a stand on the worthlessness of paid writers groups that wont allow open constructive criticism in order to not hurt anyones feelings so that they can continue to churn out unreadable dribble (not that I’m perfect myself, but I’m looking at you Gotham Writers Workshop). Instead, I will bring up one of the best lines of advice at least when it comes to writing creative non-fiction (whatever that means). It was just this random zine review in the back pages of Maximum Rock ‘n Roll on some kids xeroxed personal misadventures that got a mixed review because said author didn’t do anything interesting enough to warrant an autobiographical fanzine in the first place. Sort of the equivalence of being at party and you’re trapped in a corner by someone who’s taking forever to tell their long boring, monotone story with lots of scenic routes that goes absolutely nowhere (sort of like these last couple of paragraphs, but the only difference is that you wont come across as rude if you just stop reading this). Hey wait, where’re you going…

So yeah, do interesting things and write about them and write about it in ways that make your life seem way more interesting than it actually is. Or if it comes down to it, live vicariously through others who have a more exciting life than yourself because all you do is work, eat take-out and watch Netflix. I’m also going to personally add “get colds” and “go on inhumanly awkward dates through on-line dating sites,” because clearly, that’s been a big part of my life these last few months, but I digress.

As for what else there is to write about besides writing about how I don’t write anymore? Well I can honestly tell you that most of what I write I end up immediately throwing out because I don’t think it’s worth taking up space on the blogosphere; you know, cause there’s only so much room out there. It’s common to be you’re own worst editor which is why it takes me so long to update this super-important-must-read blog, but darn it I’m still trying. It’s either this or truck drive through arctic Minnesota in the middle of winter which, uh, I’m about to do in a couple weeks.

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