Ok, I’ve realized after a drawn out intervention with a friend that I took a desperate approach. I’ve deleted both of my story videos on YouTube, for more professional reasons.
Here’s why those videos are no longer on my previous two posts. The first one I posted, the prologue with the very long intro, I was being too personal and giving away too much personal information. I should have been a little more careful. And to go with what my best friend said, I needed to listen to the video before going live.
This is why I have never filmed a Facebook Live video on either of my Facebook accounts.
I have no filter on my mouth. Except when I’m answering phones and taking professional calls. I know exactly what to say when I’m taking phone calls from employers and people who are calling a business. I have no filter system on my tongue when I’m taking personal calls, and I have no filter when I make live videos I film on my crappy camcorder.
But one good thing is, if it is a personal call and I’m at a place of employment, I always tell them, please call back another time so I can talk to you. I know work is a bad place to take more personal calls, and that should be done on your own time. I keep those calls short, even when I’m about to have dinner.
I had a crap day again yesterday and I regret it. I feel lame just for posting those two videos for another reason. Technically, if you post anything through any social media, even YouTube, it is considered self published. So what literary agent wants to publish an author who’s already published a story through social media, where people can read for free?
It simply isn’t fair. I want to make the New York Times list.
I know I sound like a stubborn teenager, but I am so focused on getting a job or getting published now rather than waiting a few years.
I want this job at Diamond to happen. I want some agent to come look at my writing and say this is great, let me see the whole manuscript so I can send it out. And I want it to happen next week in time for Christmas. My Christmas wish is to get some kind of income so I can make my life happen.
Maybe I dream too much. Maybe the job at Diamond will happen, and maybe it won’t. Maybe I will get published before I turn 30 next year because I’m so impatient. And maybe I will be unemployed and homeless when my parents die in the future.
I am afraid of the future most of all. I’m scared my dad could have a heart attack and my mother won’t have enough money to keep the house on her own, especially after hospital and funeral costs. She’s a temp and she could lose her job at any time, usually the case with temp jobs. But that doesn’t scare me enough as the thought that I will be 30 years old, still living at home, still job searching, and is a total failure.
I’m very sorry, but I absolutely had to take both of those videos down, and I am not re-filming them. I am this close to killing my dreams of writing for a living, or working for a comic distributor or a comic book publisher, and just taking a dead end job at Exxon.
In case you don’t know already, I talk in extremes when I get depressed. I’ve been depressed for most of the month. I don’t even feel like writing another word of any of my stories. Not one sentence or phrase.
I’m listening to Sara Bareilles’s “She Used to Be Mine” on repeat, the most beautiful sad song about despair and hope from a Broadway musical. I know every word of that song, and I feel like that song best describes me: imperfect but I try, I’m very hard on myself, messy but kind, lonely most of the time, and I’m mixed up enough to make a beautiful pie.
Like Berkeley Breathed’s Opus from Bloom County, I want wings that work. And I’m a penguin. That was supposed to be a joke.
So I must apologize for my unprofessionalism with the video posts. I will no longer post any more videos with my personal thoughts and my writing in the future.
And I think I may have to kill my dreams stone dead, my dreams of being a writer or copy editor, and just take anything I can get.
That’s something everyone has to do to grow up. Give up our dreams for better things.
Maybe that’s the reason why there are too many bestselling authors over the age of 50. I wanted to break that mold and be one of the youngest writers under 35. But since I’ll be 30 in seven months from Christmas Day, I might as well let that dream go.
Only the fearless can be authors. I am not fearless. I’m terrified of rejection from every single agent I query, and I’ve gotten five rejections so far.
As much as I want to be a published writer other than WordPress, I have to get rid of that dream right now. It’s never going to happen.
It’s true what I say, never give up until someone hears your story. But someone’s already heard my story, and no one wants to listen to it again. Everybody gets bored. And you know something? I am a horrible writer.
I am a failure already.
-Lady in the Blue Box