When I Write From the Heart, You Don’t Give a Damn

Stats don’t lie, the bastards

Most people who read me know that I’m a pull-no-punches type of writer. I don’t bullshit and I won't lie to you.

As writers, our brains are always churning away, turning cream into butter as we struggle to unmold the next Great Idea for a story even better than the last one we wrote. That’s a lot of self-imposed pressure.

At any given moment, I’ll have a story idea pop into my head and I’ll have to get it down. I’ll just have to. Because I won’t remember it, for one thing. More to the point, though, I’m not calculating when it comes to my work. I write what I feel when I feel it. I don’t sit down and think, “Okay, time to write at least three stories with the word ‘fuck’ in the title, and then maybe two more about having survived breast cancer.”

Fuck, no. (Couldn’t resist.) That’s not how it works. Not by a country mile.

Like so many writers, I have deep wellsprings of emotion and experiences to draw from. Sometimes I write from a place of pain, sometimes hurt, or joy, and then there are times I just want to be audacious. Sure, I may have a niche, but there’s more to me, you know? I’m complicated, and often difficult.

Do you find that last one hard to fathom?

Note that the “you” in my title is, of course, figurative. I’ve had wonderful feedback from many of you on some of my tougher pieces. Tough for me to put down, I mean. And that feedback has touched me deeply. But there seems to be no rhyme nor reason for what “clicks” and what doesn’t. And yeah, I do feel alone in this because I see other writers being praised to the moon and back for bleeding out on the page. Constantly. For me, it seems to be hit or miss.

I’ve bled. A river. I’ve said things here that I can’t believe I would divulge. To anyone. Like in this story which received an unimpressive 676 claps and five responses:

And yeah, in spite of what “they” say, claps still count. Except from the jerks who dole out one or two. Of course, I wrote the above story earlier in my Medium “career,” so perhaps it wasn’t up to snuff.

Or, how about this one? This took a great deal out of me as writing about my folks is always tough, especially my dad as we had a difficult, often contentious relationship. But a loving one, nonetheless.

Alright, that one did slightly better engagement-wise, but Medium didn’t give a shit about it. And in a pub where damn near everyone gets curated!

Speaking of which, curation hasn’t happened to me in months. Even though I just brought up the C-word, I’m more concerned with what my readers think. Some of the stuff that gets curated is behind my comprehension, anyway, so obsessing over it is not a good look for me. Not for anyone, really, because once again, there’s no rhyme nor reason for this bestowing of honor.

So what is it? Am I not believable when I’m not cussing someone or something out? When I’m not ranting? Although I feel like I’m ranting now.

This is not empty rhetoric. I really want to understand because if I’m shouting into the abyss, I might as well stop wasting my time. Stop telling myself that I’m “relate-able,” that what I have to say might resonate with another human being.

I linked to a story below that I worked very hard on. When I published it in The Top Shelf, I had a good feeling about it, and still do, but a “good feeling” isn’t very substantive. I need to see what the numbers say and something tells me that once again, I’ll be disappointed.

I’ve had writer friends here tell me that they love my “softer side.” Yet my stats aren’t backing this up, for the most part anyway. There are spikes, naturally, when a story I wasn’t sure would grab anyone by the throat actually garnered significant engagement and then those, like the ones above that disappointed the hell out of me.

I’m not intending to make any changes in my “style” or to my “brand.” I am who I am and I write what I write. I’m just hoping that readers will broaden their thinking where I’m concerned because later today I may want to write about my worst experience in the sack and tomorrow I may be inspired to document the horrors that take place in a typical factory farm.

Light and dark. That’s who I am.

Maybe there are writers reading this who feel the same way I do: Perplexed and disappointed that maybe, no one “gets” them. To those people, I say, “Just keep being you. Whatever you choose to write, make it real, and from the heart. Sooner or later, you’ll connect with a kindred spirit. Or a thousand.”

Fellow writers and readers, I appreciate your letting me get this off my chest as it’s been bothering me for a while. And, just as you “listen” to me, I’ll return the favor, anytime.

Finally, thank you to those here who don’t mind seeing my softer side from time to time. I love to share it with you. It’s balm for my soul and hopefully for yours, as well. To the others I say:

“Don’t put Baby in a corner.”

Sherry McGuinn is a slightly-twisted, longtime Chicago-area writer and award-winning screenwriter. Her work has appeared in The Chicago Tribune, Chicago Sun-Times, and numerous other publications. Sherry’s manager is currently pitching her newest screenplay, a drama with dark, comedic overtones and inspired by a true story.

Thanks so much for reading, guys. Here’s more of my work, if you’re up for it.