I am a writer. I am a poet. I am a journalist. I am a podcaster, creator, entrepreneur…right?

I will write an essay! No, it’s more of a prose poem. No, I want to write a journalistic feature now - and I have to write another one for my class! But alas, I’ll do two just to make it harder on myself.

I will read this on the podcast! I will also post this graphic on Instagram. Should I post a body pic, too?… I might lose some followers, but could gain more… but this is a target audience thing, so stop it right there. Stop!

I should write for myself. I should let it be fun & raw & messy, publish whatever I want (and keep whatever I don’t for myself). I shouldn’t confine every idea to a pre-determined genre or audience or fear of reception.

Ah, there is again - the familiar ask on the tip of my tongue. The ethics of telling your story, writing your truth, freeing your voice. To what do you owe the readers, the others like you? To what do you owe your villains, your lovers, your side characters in the tale? Most importantly, what do you owe yourself? What do you need to heal?

I like to remind myself that writing concepts, ideas, & pieces evolve over time, sometimes many years; this not only guarantees a wide breadth of information and sources, but permits the brain to marinate, revise, rework, revoke, discover, rewrite, uncover… and so on. Pieces are of pieces are of pieces… or within a dream, or something

{{cover image credit: pinterest // nizaquinsil}}

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Check out my work on Medium and listen to the pod, Not Qualified 4 This.