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2001-11-27 - 2:19 p.m.
i realized in the car yesterday that i want to be a published author. i think i have wanted this for my entire life, ever since i wrote, illustrated and bound my first book at the age of five. i have been keeping this a secret. i tell people that i like to write, but not that i have goals with writing, that i have visions, that while driving my jetta down some silly suburban road i am mentally titling books that have no pages. i don't tell people that everything i do is a book or an epic or a poem or a song. it is inappropriate. in addition i don't talk about it because then other people appropriate my goals as their own. it becomes "so how's that book coming along? is it going to be the 'great american novel'?" i don't want support for this. i don't want validation in the form of "giving me space to write" or "providing moral support." writing is a part of me. i do not need validation for that piece of me any more than i need validation for having a heart or lungs or skin or eyes. this is something that i have had difficulty explaining: the more support/critiques i get for this individual part of me, the less seductive it becomes, the less attached to me it becomes, until i no longer want to associate with it and i leave it for other people to hold onto.
re-reading this i realize that none of it is true. and, sweet reader, if you remember from earlier entries, this gigantic contradiction is the closest i will ever come to reality.