Confessions of a Slightly Exhausted Overwhelmingly Grateful New Writer

An exercise in reality, gratitude, and imagination

I must confess something. I am a writer and I am exhausted.

Well, okay. It’s more complicated than that. But. This is the start of my third month actively pursuing my dream of being a writer. I mean, that is to say, of actually claiming the identity and working ways of ‘writer.’

I love it. I absolutely love it. I love waking up, writing, going about my day, writing, getting ready for bed, writing, dreaming about writing, waking up, repeat.

I love writing. I love improving. I love the feeling of knowing that this new piece was better than my last. And I do not like the feeling of this new piece is not as good as, will never measure up to, my previous piece, etc. etc. and so on.

So, it is complicated.

The thing exhausting me are the things that go with the writing that are not exactly writing. The social media blitz. The marketing learning curve. The anxieties over how much I do not know about email lists, blogs, pitching, freelancing, followers, clients, publishing. The self-doubt, impostor syndrome, fear of rejection dreads that might sometimes paralyze me.

I want to write. I am writing. I am a writer.

But I realize this requires more than my willpower, more than my affirmations. It requires massive attention to getting myself out there. To being seen.

I prefer being found. But in our modern internet social media online frantic culture, being found or stumbled upon, is not common.

Everyone is out there jumping up and down with a “LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT WHAT I DID! LIKE WHAT I DID! SHARE WHAT I DID! SHARE ME!” sign in their hands. And this jumping is tiring.

I know I am not alone in this. It is the way of our gig economy. It is the way of our artist community.

See, I don’t know if you know this, but I guess some people think writing is an extra, or optional thing. Or something that is common, typical, anyone can do it.

So, we are all out here trying, giving, sharing, proclaiming and taking up space, rightfully. And those seekers of our wares are rare. And are often other writers. Because writers are readers, and readers sometimes, not always, just so happen to be writers.

I am not meaning to sound melancholy, or to complain. As mentioned, I love this life. I simply adore it. I am where I belong. I feel it. But there’s so much I don’t know how to do. How to handle. How to prepare for. I can write. I can read. Let’s do this, right?

But writing and reading exist in the context of a market, currently. They are art. They are passion. They are necessary for life. But this market is often sink, swim, float or drown.

And let’s face it, we all spend some time drowning.

However, here’s the part that matters. Here’s the part I want you to hear. Here’s the part that saves us.

The hands that pull us up out of these feelings of overwhelming exhaustion are often other writers. Every time I have felt not good enough, every time I have felt not certain, other writers have reached for me, grabbed my hand, yanked me out of the whirlpool, and said: Hey, girl. It’s okay. Here’s how you do this.

So, now I have to Alanis Morrissette this piece by saying thank you to Sarah DeVries for giving me the push I needed to start writing for real.

Thank you to B. Michael Logan for being so kind and helpful in all things.

Thank you to Christina Ward 🌼for being a poet Goddess mentor.

Thank you to Frank McKinley for reaching out and checking in.

Thank you to Zarina Dara 🥀💃🏻for being an inspiration and a cheerleader.

Thank you to Bill DuBay Jr. ⚡️and Dirty Harry Wizard for thinking of me.

Thank you to Manas Kala for including me.

Thank you to Nikki Kay for fangirling about me.

Thank you to Kristi Keller for creating community.

Thank you to Kamga Tchassa for messaging with me about haiku.

Thank you to Deborah Christensen for welcoming me into her House of Haiku.

Thank you to Jun Wu for being a role model in writing.

Thank you for Reggie for saying I had a nice writing voice and for helping me edit out a few commas.

Thank you to E. Scott Alighieri for always being the first to respond to my new poems.

Same for Greg Prince, Randy Shingler, Wendell McQuary, Sean Michael, Giovanni Sonier, Greg Thomas, and Thomas Plummer.

Thank you ShaRhonda for reading that poem and liking it.

Thank you Johnzelle Anderson for your responses, and for your enthusiasm in your writing! Thank you Hawkeye Pete Egan B. whose Medium profile name I couldn’t remembers started with H not P or B, but who is always one of the first to find my new stuff and like it.

Thank you Susan Brearley for the opportunities in connection.

Thank you Thomas Gaudex for letting me Scribe with you.

Thank you to Ryan Fan and Heidi Franklin for being supportive and helpful from the start.

Thank you Sarah Dee and Agnes Louis and Adam, Diabetic Cyborg and Jim Woods and Michelle Marie Warner for sharing and caring.

Thank you to all of you who write and create and inspire and motivate. Thank you for the light of your bravery in the powerful expression and continuous risk taking in writing what you think, feel, observe, notice, wish for, seek to change or save.

Thank you to the countless others who have noticed me who have done what I have dreamed about, who have found me. I hesitated to name names because I cannot name everyone, but this is a start. Just a start.

Everyday I exist as an actual official finally real writer is a day I exist in connection and community with you all.

I am a hand for you too, as I learn, as I grow, as I pay it back and pay it forward, as I find others.

We exist only in community, only in relation, only in connection. We exist in this as writers and also as workers. Writing is work. But, because we are writers, because we value the art and the craft, because we play around with words, rules, the imagination: we can engage in the real and the make-believe, simultaneously, weaving in and out with ease.

We can write and write and write, as we do. Day in, day out. With passion. With intensity. With work to get our words out there.

And, we can take breaks, take naps, spend time to just read each other’s work. We can take time to just write without the social media wildfire that we have to try to fan into existence.

We can pretend we are in Paris, circa 1922. In a salon. Without wi-fi. Without phones or computers. Just sharing our work, pen to paper, thought to word, with each other. Just letting it be. With coffee, tea, wine, and plenty of discussion, inspiration, and appreciation for who we are and what we bring to the world of writing.

Jenny Justice is a mom, Sociology instructor, and writer. You can follow her on Medium and at Jenny Justice, Writer. She has been recognized as a Top Writer on Medium in Poetry, Parenting, Reading, Education, Books, Racism, and Climate Change, so far.