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Ah, solitude! A rare occurrence these days with an unemployed wife, a four-year old son, and a newborn baby at home. Much is on my mind. I’ve been wrestling with the topic of collecting unemployment versus working an actual job. Earning a living wage is a difficult thing for a lazy procrastinator like me to do in this economy. Especially during the summer. The air-conditioning in my Saturn is broken; it's hot and I'm a sweater. Much better suited for our climate-controlled condo or community pool, I think the mental wrestling match is over; victory, unemployment!
Since this blog's inception, I've been fixated on the idea of writing a book and becoming a published author. How does one go about writing a book anyhow? By writing I suppose. I’ve thought about writing a book, talked about writing a book, and read books on writing a book, but have not yet written a book. I expect googling “How to Get Published,” and “Finding a Writing Agent” without actually having a book written or started for that matter, is putting the cart before the horse. I suppose the best way to go about writing a book is to write. So that’s what I’m doing here.
This isn’t a journal or a diary. I have one of those already. This is my attempt at writing a book (I think). That’s humorous given that my attempts and efforts produce nothing but pretty leaves on the tree (see The God-Shaped Hole). Hello! A polished-up terd is still a terd! I’m writing because I feel I need to. I have no other agenda. My aim is not to teach, preach, inspire, motivate, enlighten or any other verb that serves to boost my ego. I’m writing simply to satisfy God. Whether I have something to say or not, I’m putting pen to paper in hopes He will make me a channel of His will. I pray somehow, this writing situation, this writing experiment, this writing endeavor, undertaking, burden, and blessing, will produce real fruit in my life; lasting happiness, joy, freedom, and peace; fruit that will satisfy the Lord’s hunger.
“How can God hunger,” you ask? The Bible says that Jesus is fully God and fully man, meaning He went through everything I go through in life, including hunger. I want my life to produce fruit to satiate Him. How will scribbling stream of thought consciousness on white, printer paper accomplish this goal? Only God knows. But He does know and I feel I have to do this for some reason. Maybe it’s for none other than to give my hand a healthy workout. I want so badly to insert a masturbation joke here but my people-pleasing issues will not allow it. I fear that one day, this writing will be published and someone I’ll need something from sometime in the future will judge me and I won’t be able to properly manipulate them to get what it is I think I want.
"Who cares what others think?" you ask. Me, that's who. Why? All I really need to do is please God. He’s given me His Spirit, a Jiminy Cricket if you will, which lets me know when I mess up. But dang, the influences of this world can really leave a mark on a person. They’ve left a mark on me at least. I hear my parents in my head, my mom mostly, criticizing every word I say. I’m 29 years old and still hold myself accountable to the mom of my youth. Not even the person my mom is now; the mom of the days of yore before she knew God on a first name basis. Mom is much less judgmental these days. The mom of yesteryear however, is alive and well between my ears guilting the bajesus out of every word I think, say, or write.
After writing “bajesus,” I realize I may have offended some of the hypothetical, future readers of my non-existent book by taking part of the Lord’s name in vain with a made-up word. My deepest apologies. Please, oh please, don’t be sore with me! Continue to purchase my imaginary books and attend my imaginary speaking engagements and listen to me on my imaginary radio program.
That last sentence was crafted for a hypothetical audience and yet, the fear of being judged for those words is very real. Who the hell am I afraid of offending? This is ridiculous! I'm a fully-grown man with chest hair and a beard but hesitated before writing the word “hell.” Now I'm wondering if I should’ve capitalized it. Hell, the place? That’s capitalized. Hell, the curse word? I think not. Unless it’s the first word in a sentence as was the case of my previous. Hmm, my pretend editor will probably advise me to cut this entire portion of my imaginary manuscript so as not to confuse the general, hypothetical public.
My 90-year-old lady bladder is gently reminding me that I need to pee but I'm rather enjoying myself at the moment. You know what's peculiar? The Bible mentions nothing of Jesus’ bathroom needs. As a man, obviously he had to pee. And poop for that matter. What did Jesus wipe with? I get a little raw from the cushy, two-ply stuff my wife buys. I wonder if Jesus Christ, the creator of all things, the first and the last, the Alpha and the Omega, ever got a case of Monkey Butt? He had to. He and His disciples walked everywhere! I get chaffed walking from the couch to the fridge in the air-conditioning. We’re talking miles and miles a day in the Middle Eastern sun. In a world without Gold Bond powder, I think Jesus’ suffering for our sins began long before the Cross.
Oh boy, I just pissed off some of my future readers with a bit of theoretical sacrilege. I’m losing fake fans by the paragraph here. Well, you can’t please all the people all the time. But why have I persistently tried for my entire life? Well, not my entire life. I suppose I didn’t think much about others for the first two or three years. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been a fear-based, people-pleasing, resentful ball of sarcastic, judgmental condescension. I almost wrote “condensation” which made me think of “perspiration,” of which I’m self-conscious.
Will anyone actually sit down and read this ridiculousness? I don’t know and I don’t care and that feels great. But my ego says, “Oh yes, this writing will definitely make you rich, famous, and popular.” If it does, that’s a God thing, baby! I’m just inking up this paper for my own mental health. Why have I neglected the one thing I’m undoubtedly gifted at? I’m a writer, baby! No one can take that from me. Oh crap, I’ve just tempted one of my pretend stalkers to find out where I live and amputate my writing hand. Great, if that wasn’t going to happen, it will now because I’ve written it and obviously, everything I write comes true.
I felt so judged when I wrote that last sentence! All my imaginary readers and critics from the future just screamed, “He says he can tell the future! He thinks he’s God! Blasphemy!” I’ve been labeled a “self-proclaimed prophet with delusions of grandeur, presenting with symptoms consistent with schizophrenia.” It’s all over the front pages of the fake newspaper. US Weekly just trashed me in the pretend, non-existent, May issue. *Disclaimer: Brandon Stephens in no way meant to slander the good name of US Weekly. Seeking monetary compensation for any defamation of character, real or perceived, will result in nil. Brandon lives paycheck to paycheck and is currently on unemployment so please, contact his imaginary legal representation if and only if deemed absolutely necessary. *
Where was I? Oh yes, I’m a writer! I can spell (sort of), and grasp the English language (mostly). I’m funny (at least I think so) and am semi-literate. Nothing short of a horrific, debilitating accident could take away my ability to write, create, reflect, criticize, and express (please God, please don’t give me a horrific, debilitating accident just to paint a picture of irony for my pretend fan base). Nothing short of Alzheimer’s (thank you, Spell Check!) that is, but I drink way too much coffee to catch a case of Alzheimer’s. My apologies to those affected in any way by Alzheimer’s. *Disclaimer: Brandon Stephens is not a doctor and is in no way prescribing coffee as a cure for or preventative measure against the onset of Alzheimer’s. He merely read an article in Reader’s Digest. * Great, now I’ll never be featured in Reader’s Digest. I’d better call my hypothetical lawyer asap.
What a litigious society we live in! I’ve dedicated almost an entire sheet of paper, front and back, to appease the fantasy haters who will try to sue me for what I wrote in my best-selling book that hasn’t been published. Wow. I’m a nut. Or, maybe I do see the future and I’m being proactive. Hello psychosis! Bring on the Thorazine!
Thanks for reading this Bent Straight post by Brandon Stephens. Check out some other popular posts and be sure to subscribe!
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Keep on writing whatever you feel inspired to write,Brandon. If someone in your reading audience takes offense with your choice of words and/or turns of phrasing,that's their problem,not yours. It's your book---what you say and how you say it,are your choices...Go for it!
ReplyDeleteThanks for the encouragement! I need to remember that, "you can't please all the people all the time." Stay tuned...more to come!
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