Tuesday, 17 August 2010
This week's Collective topic is: Things at which I am awesome. My day to post is Monday. You will notice that it is Tuesday. Tuesday at 11:00am. And I still haven't posted. You know why? Because the thing at which I am most awesome in this whole entire world is psyching myself out of being awesome when it comes to writing words. I've spent the last ten years of my life trying to learn how to write words while secretly dreaming that someone would one day pay me money to write words. You know, for a living. And wonky fluke of universe tilting! It happened! It totally happened!
And so I wrote, wrote, wrote. And never, ever slept. And every time -- every single fucking time -- someone would say, "This is good!" Or "You are great!" Or "Here, have some more money because you are actually kind of talented!" I would cower in the corner and rock back and forth and sob, "Doooom! Doooom! Dooooom!" into my shirtsleeves.
Last week, my favorite showrunner/writer of my favorite TV show called me an "oasis in a sea of wankers." He invited me up to Toronto to come play on the set of his show. He asked my advice about his characters. He thinks we're, like, colleagues or something. I got two emails from two BBC news presenters -- a Welsh one and a regular English one -- telling me they think I'm an artist, that I "challenge political opinions and cultural totems," that I embody "love, creativity, kindness, invention, learning." Then I got a whole other email from a whole other showrunner and writer who tracked me down from Twitter because we share the same initials. He said "The way I distinguish between us [on fan forums]: They hate me. They love you." Then I interviewed someone who said, "Everyone on set reads and loves your recaps!" And then! Someone sent me a photo of words I'd written. She'd had them tattooed ONTO HER BODY. FOREVER. It's the SECOND TIME that has happened.
And what do I do with that, you guys? Do I say, "Hey there, look at me! Making my dreams come true! How lucky am I! How stupidly awesome is it that I got this stupid chance to write my stupid words for the whole wide world?"
No. I do not. I sit and stare at a blank Google Doc and when I can't handle that anymore, I pick up a Sharpie and draw boxes and write the word "Block!" "Block!" "Block!" over and over and over again.
I don't know why it happens. I don't understand it. When people think I am an awesome writer, and they want me to write more words in the same vein of that perceived awesomeness, I choke. I just motherfucking choke and it's like Sybill Fucking Trelawney over here, looking at a cup of regular tea and howling about The Grim.
You say: That's a really lovely sentence you wrote there, Heather Anne.
I hear: The giant, spectral dog that haunts churchyards! My dear Heather Anne, it is an omen – the worst omen – of death!
Hey, today is Abigail!'s birthday! Let's focus on that!
Posted by Heather Anne Hogan at 11:23 am