I’ve literally rewritten this sentence you’re reading like fifteen times. That’s my problem. I edit everything. I have this horrible tendency to try and predict how life is going to go and edit each moment as it comes. I’ll be the first to tell you it’s a tragic way to live.
You’re most likely to find me up in the clouds with the rest of the irrational people. I rarely surface and when I do it’s not for very long. I find myself tethered to my computer. It holds me to the present moment on Earth when I’m stationed behind it, working on whatever new project I’ve started.
I start a lot of projects. I don’t finish a lot of projects. My manuscript was the first book I’d finished since eighth grade. It sort of happened randomly, like most things do in my life. I started working on it, found myself surpassing that point of “eh, this is garbage” and continuing to work on it until I realized… I could do this. I could finish a book. I could. I could. I could.
And how miraculous it was.
I never believed myself to be put on the Earth to write. It was always music for me. I moved to Nashville to pursue a career as a songwriter at eighteen from my hometown in Montana, stayed for six months, moved home for three, and then relocated to Los Angeles, where I have been ever since.
It wasn’t the type of journey I thought it would be. I get lost in reflection, wondering why I thought it was so hard at the time. But that’s the unfortunate thing about me… I like to live most of my moments like they’re moments in the making.
No, scratch that. I don’t like it, I hate it, but for some reason I can’t figure out how to change the routine of it. Though, trust me, I’ve worked tirelessly on it. I’m a complicated species.
But let’s get to the uncomplicated parts of me. I like bath salts, candles, face masks, Nike, books, Jonathan Tropper, John Mayer, hypochondriacs, It’s Complicated, The Leftovers, driving at night during a Montana summer, my pillow, my dog, my grandparents/mom, and most importantly, I quite like myself. It wasn’t like that at first, I had a hard time finding the good in my life, the good in who I was, and after much time of sitting behind a computer, piano, and guitar, I found who I was and wouldn’t you believe?
I quite liked her a lot.
P.S. I write psychological literary fiction that always ends on a vibrant note.