Year Zero

Hello, my name is Diego Green and I am NOT a writer.

But I’d like to be.

For a very long time, probably the entirety of my adult life, I’ve lived under the assumption that I am a writer. I learned early in life that I had some natural talent for storytelling and wordplay and simply leaned upon that, heavily. So heavy that I’ve gone through life with the belief that if I simply putter about with this craft – a few pages here, a paragraph or two there – that I would eventually, naturally, create The Great American Novel without, you know, pouring my whole entire everlasting soul into it.

But that’s unimportant. That’s all in the past.

What IS important is that I begin to be honest with myself. I am not a writer not because I have no apptitude for it but because I’ve refused to put in the work. And it’s time for that to change.

So here’s the deal for 2019…

This year, I pledge to myself to approach the art of the written word as a novice hungry to learn. I will open myself to new forms of literature and, by extension, actually making headway on a reading list that has been sitting more of less undisturbed for a good half-decade.

I WILL set aside dedicated time on my days off to sit down, with a pen in hand, and write, simply write.

I WILL NOT attempt to make the first draft perfect.

I WILL NOT continue to be so close-minded in regards to modern literature and genre works

I WILL (try very hard) to read something every goddamn day.

I WILL NOT approach the craft as a smug, experienced know-it-all. (I am a babe in the woods…)

I WILL open myself up to criticism and failure and rejection and stop hiding behind a mountain of deleted works.

I WILL perform proper research on subjects I know little about even if I find it extremely tedious at times.

I WILL become a writer.

I don’t know when or how long it will take, but in this year of our lord, 2019, I will begin my journey.

This is my Year Zero.

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An Unnecessary Dread of Everything

Fear.

Fear has been one of my greatest enemies throughout my life.

Fear of the unknown. Fear of appearing foolish. Fear of failure.

Fear has been the self-inflicted setback to almost every attempt I make at progression in my art, in my health, in my knowledge. Lack of confidence, I believe, is not the cause but a symptom of this disease. The true culprit, of course, is crippling anxiety – a demon whose point of origin I cannot quite locate.

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Redux

Here we are again, (he says to no one in particular other than himself and the perhaps two other readers following this blog) another day, another blog. This time though, it’s going to be different. Maybe.

Seriously though, my intentions this time around are a little more concrete, a little more focused. I hesitate to use the word “professional”, as I am still far from being a professional writer, but I would like to make this space feel more like a portfolio and less like a random jumble of hastily written posts space months or even years apart. That’s the ideal anyway.

Continue reading “Redux”