Coming Out of the Closet

In my previous post, to kick off this new blog, I listed my three “non-New Year’s Resolutions” goals for this year: more podcasting, more blogging, and more writing. If you noticed both writing and blogging, and thought something along the lines of, “Aren’t those part of the same thing?” you might be right. But while blogging is—and continues to be—a goal, when I wrote “writing,” I wasn’t necessarily referring to writing for this blog—though as I compose this post, I am indeed “writing.” But in that context, I was referring to writing—fiction writing.

When I describe myself, you will see me list terms that list my interests, such as “podcaster,” “techie,” “gamer,” “science fiction fan,” “audio production nerd”—needless to say, I’m definitely a geek. But in a bold step, I recently added another label in to the mix: “wannabe writer.” While there are far too many to list here, I am incredibly lucky to have some amazingly creative friends, both writers and non-writers, who encourage and inspire me, especially on the Internet in the podcasting and new media space. In recent years, there have been points where I have expressed my admiration for my creative friends, and idly lamenting my lack of talent in this area, and insisted to myself (and others) “…but I’m not a writer.” I have had many creative ideas for stories to tell—”but oh, well, I’m not really a writer…” Well then, why the heck not? You are what you make yourself—so what if I haven’t been writing for years, so what if I didn’t want to be a writer back when I was a kid? No more “but.” I call shenanigans on my mind’s own insecure, self-doubting nonsense—because disbelief is the enemy.

Those who follow me on Twitter or hang out with me on IRC, you may have seen me mention my “super secret” projects. At least two of these projects—yes, I have a few secret projects, and no, I won’t say exactly how many—are, and have been, writing projects, fiction projects. Part of this “coming out” and declaring “I’m a writer!” is to give myself, through you, some measure of accountability. Today, a lot of people—some very talented, but unfortunately also many hacks—seem to like to claim to be a “writer” (fiction or non-fiction) if they can put a few sentences together. You almost can’t help roll your eyes at some people who claim to have been “writing” their “Great American Novel”—no matter how brilliant it might be—for years with little to show for it. I have the ideas, but maybe this year, I will have something to show for it. Wait, no, that’s not right. There is no “maybe”. I will, or I will not; “maybe” is a self-defeating excuse.

What I write might not be worthy of the bytes it takes up on my hard drive—and probably won’t be, at least at first. But if I don’t try, I might as well pack up all my toys, and go home, because I have already failed—and have nobody to blame but myself. To succeed, you have to first be willing to fail.

It’s time—no, past time—to come out of the creative “closet.” I am no longer simply a podcaster, techie, science fiction fan, gamer, audio production nerd. I, am Steve Riekeberg, and I am a writer.