I’ve been feeling a bit low as a writer/person in the world lately, which is weird because the thing I’ve been feeling low about is the fact that I’m not angry all the time.
I am a feminist. There’s no denying it and I’m happy to say so. And I am angry about a lot of things. I just refuse to let those things make me angry all of the time. I refuse to believe that there are more bad people than there are good, and I refuse to believe that the world we live in right now is the reality we have to accept. If we start simply accepting that things are terrible, then we let the terrible things win.
It’s not that I’m ignoring the terrible things. I just don’t want to validate them. My goal is to give you just a small break and to remind you that there is still good out there.
I choose to believe in and acknowledge love.
But I’m not just a feminist, I’m also a writer. And while I love this blog, I’m also trying to “make it” as a writer and I’d like to be published on other websites as well. …except that most of the websites I find that I think might be a good fit for my style are, well, only publishing angry-feminist stuff right now.
So there’s a strange sense of loneliness creeping in… all because I’m refusing to be unhappy.
I turned to Bestbian today, who always knows what to say in these situations, and… well, she didn’t disappoint:
I’ve seen a few of my writer friends falling down this rabbit hole lately. “What do the readers/publishers/editors want to see?”
But I think we all need to remember that that’s not the question we need to be asking. The question we need to be asking is “What do I have to say?”
I have stories of my foolishness, my uterus, and love.
Maybe that’s not marketable.
And maybe that’s okay.
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