Other people's writing

I often wonder if I use editing/proofreading as an excuse to not do my own writing. I mean, I've got to pay the bills, right? And checking someone else's work means I don't have to worry if my own isn't up to par.

But then, I start comparing...my own story to their story; my own sex scenes to their sex scenes, etc.
I told myself that editing would be good practice...but it seems to be pushing me further and further away from doing the real thing.

Maybe there is some merit to the old saying: Those who can't do, teach.  Naaah, that's bullshit, and I know it. I am a talented artist, and I also teach art.

As I continue to juggle 10 different things, trying to piece together a living in this god-awful city, I feel I'm getting further and further away from what I truly am - an expressive, creative being who has so much more to offer. So much more of a purpose.

Muses

What compels you to write? Or paint? Sew? Sing? Blog? Why do humans have this need to put something out into the world, knowing that someone, somewhere, is going to have something ugly to say about it?

I wonder if the first cave artist finished up their mammoth drawing, then Gronk came along, stared at it for a second or two, then whipped out his penis and took a leak on it. It has been my experience that the Gronks of the current world have nothing of their own of value to offer the world, which is why they are compelled to piss on everyone who does, right tRump?

All of my life, I've worried about what people think. About my art, my writing, my clotheshairbodyface, opinion, work ethic, you name it. I still haven't reached the point of entirely not giving a rat's ass. But I'm getting there.

Soon, my book will be finished, and I'll have to risk finding out how many Gronks will piss on it. Not quite ready for that.

Escaping

For a long time now, I've wasted way too much time on Facebook and other social media. But mostly Facebook. But, with the new angry atmosphere, I'm just too negative all the time. My one happy place, a photo page about my beloved Scotland, got infiltrated by the  ugly energies of a couple of shitheads, and now isn't the soothing relief that it once was. 

But, I have to look at this as a good thing. I will get more art done. I will get more writing done. Hell, I may even get more cleaning of this apartment done - HAH!

So now, my escape will be at my easel, or at my word processor, or reading actual books, either in my hands or on my Kindle. 

And as for Scotland - I have my own photos...

Musings of a lifelong artist & book fiend, with some wine and a fairly new-found love for whisky thrown in.