There are many writers I look up to who ceaselessly amaze me with how sincere their works are. There’s something in them that speaks to a lost cavern within. It only takes one peek inside their writing to understand that their vulnerability makes them great works. Being willing to put your heart on the line and up for judgment is never easy, but if done honestly and without pandering to the whims of your audience, truths begin to arise. I’ve been thinking a lot about vulnerability and what it looks like. Putting my writing out there is the first step. Making sure I grow is the next.
Lately, I’ve been focusing more on the next phase of my life, or more specifically, what I want that next phase to look like. I must put away habits and lifelong crusades that no longer service me. Some never did. This year, I turned thirty and realized that putting my energy, money, and time into being a successful musician is, unfortunately, unsustainable and unrealistic. A part of me wanted to be famous, another part of me wanted to be able to pay the bills with my music, and the truest craved the feeling of being onstage playing guitar and singing for the distorted faces in the crowd. Being up there is intoxicating, but doing it night after night with less money in my pocket than when I started and diminishing confidence broke my heart.
I will always be a musician and write and record music. My days of playing on stage will dwindle, but I don’t expect they’ll ever fade completely. I’m coming at it from the perspective of what I can pull off in my forties. Nothing stops me from getting the band together and playing some shows simply for the love of the act. I have had conversations with myself and trust that recording music and occasionally performing for a half-empty room full of half-listening nightcrawlers is enough. So what’s next?
Being a writer is sustainable; as long as I don’t lose my mind to illness or accident, I can do this until my last day on earth. I don’t just want to write for the sake of writing, although it is as noble a pursuit as any. I want to consistently become a better writer, just as I became a better musician through perseverance. So, how does vulnerability factor into this? Any growth worth anything must be backed by the willingness to fail, embarrass yourself, and try a new angle. I’ve decided the best way to push myself is to publish unedited excerpts from my journal, which I write in almost every night. Hopefully, this will inspire me to push the boundaries of my creative and “finished works.” I’ve made a promise to myself to constantly check in and make sure my journal entries do not become performative for the potential use on this publication. There will be things I do not publish, and that will prevent me from becoming obsessed with writing what I think this audience will enjoy. I am scared of what may come from this, but I have a sneaking suspicion that it will help me grow as a writer and thoughtful human—perhaps the willingness to jump into the unknown matters most in these situations. Today, I am thankful for my vulnerability, but we will see what tomorrow brings.
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