As of late I’ve been going through this entire process of figuring out life, especially considering I graduate in a few weeks. The only reason I moved to Denver is because I live with my parents, and so I’m like really anxious to save up money and go somewhere else; make my own path and find my own “home.”
So in the midst of everything I’m going through and in the process of realizing I have the power to start my own business offering my writing services, I ended up writing this poem about all the rejections writers face. We all get them. Some hurt, some help. I know I’ve had my fair share of high acclaim, as well as horrible rejection that makes you want to crawl up into a ball and shed tears.
But the good + bad have formulated a bold confidence in my work, my writing style, and my personality. I realized that even though the rejections can make you feel inadequate, you have to realize your worth and let the pain propel you to write even more.
Abyss of letters,
ink patiently fading away
as pounding tears shred the words to bits
truths you were never the one
We chose someone else,
anecdotes for “failure”
Pain boiling in your soul,
tormenting fragments of words
dripping with blood
Simmering visions of defeat
enticing the dreams,
a land once polluted with happiness
You’re only a page away from truth,
heartbeat lying within your pen
is an “adequate” a pulse.
Throughout the course of every writers journey of expression we are often faced with our arch-nemesis, the overbearing editor. If you’re a fellow writer, then you know exactly what I’m talking about. It’s that editor that has to dissect every aspect of your piece, and then they end up making a bunche of changes resulting in a published version of your piece that seems so unfamiliar (that has happened to me on several occasions.)
I’m not going to even front as though I’m able to stay calm under intense scrutinization from an editor. Nope, I’m a temperamental artist & writer. Of course, I never become unprofessional and end up cussing my editors (I freelance a lot, resulting in various editors overseeing my work) out in a fit a fury. Duh, remember the importance of never burning your bridges, so I like to keep my references copacetic. But that doesn’t mean there haven’t been times behind close doors that I’m shouting and cussing at the absurdity and rudeness of some editors wanting me to abandon my message & write a new piece.
I understand that it’s an editors job to oversee a team of writers and make sure everything is consistent, but the formalities and hierarchy infused with a snobbish attitude is something I just can’t stand. Just because your an editor it doesn’t give you the right to be an asshole to all the writers and try to minimize the message they have.
The attitude and hierachy within the industry of writing (especially magazines) is one of the reasons why I ended up opening my blog to other writers. I realized that not every writer gets a chance to share their work to a broad audience, and I felt as though it would be my mission to help the “underdogs” get a chance to shine.
When I say “underdogs” I’m referring to those who just want exposure and actually have opinions worth sharing, but might not get the chance right off the back due to to all the damn rules & attitude of so many online & print publications. I feel as though it’s my duty to stand up and say, “Dude, Let Em’ Speak!”
Especially since I’ve always been somewhat of an “outcast” or the artsy girl obsessed with house music, I feel as though blogging is the perfect outlet for folks with opinions. ThinkSoul25 is meant to be an eccentric homebase for culture, rants, and nomadic madness. I’m a nomad & a culture junkie who loves to rant, and I know that there are others out there with awesome experiences & viewpoints that need to be heard.
I know we need editors to check spelling and ensure grammatical prowess, but here on TS25 I’m of course going to ensure everything reads well, but I’m not going to have a bitchy attitude and tell people “you’re not a good writer.” No, fuck that nonsense. What makes a good writer, in my opinion, is personality, passion, and the confidence to let their thoughts ramble, even if it seems like nonsense. Madness is beautiful, so if a post turns into madness or goes off topic, that’s perfect. That is the beauty of being a writer, you have the freedom to say whatever the hell you want.
And if people think you’re tempermental, well then you’ve done an excellent job. Hey, what writer out there isn’t tempermental? We go through so much rejection and negativity. Somedays we are gonna be extra sassy, but we don’t fight it, we incorporate it into our writing. And here at TS25, I welcome the “angry” ranting and opinionated rambling. Other places, especially magazines & online publications with overbearing editors might resent it, but I highly encourage it.
People always ask me, “What should I write about on your blog?” And I simply say, “Whatever you want.” Seriously, I want people to decide for themselves what they want to say, when they say it, and how they say it. TS25 is all about freedom of speech.
So if you’re down for the cause and I like what I’m preaching, then shoot me a comment or an email at email@example.com. I always welcome new contributors. Let’s build a community of writers that truly believe in freedom of speech. We may offend sometimes, but words aren’t always a plush pillow you rest your meek head on. Words can sometimes be a slaughterhouse, but hey, it’s the freedom of speech.
It’s been a super long time since I’ve done a vlog, but yesterday the mood struck. I decided to use my web cam on my Macbook Pro and just express my thoughts on the past few months, losing weight, why I’m single, and what’s to come in my book.
If you haven’t watched one my previous vlogs, then this will be a great chance for you to get a sense of my personality which hopefully shines through in my writing. So peep the video below!
©Jasmine McGee.ThinkSoul25. http://thinksoul25.com
The other day I had an interesting conversation with my mom. Lately we’ve been having some random conversations, including the conversation about the dead man being loaded onto the ambulance a few nights ago. I’ve seen a lot of things in my life, but seeing a old White guy loaded onto a stretcher and hearing his daughter yelling at the paramedics, is a sight that leaves an eerie feeling.
I woke up to the sounds of loud screaming outside and finally looked out the window of our hotel room. My mom said she had been up for 15 minutes and heard the screaming. She wondered if someone was getting raped and was contemplating calling the cops, but she realized the screaming sounded more like a panic than of sheer fear and violation.
Her assumption was correct, the girl was panicking because her father had just died. I still don’t know how he died, but I could hear the pain in her screams. The paramedics told her to come down and she started screaming that she couldn’t calm down, how could she calm down when her father just died? She tried explaining to the paramedics that she couldn’t believe her father died. Mind you, I didn’t see any of this. I could only hear what was going on and I could see the loading her father into the ambulance. It was all a mysterious tragedy to me.
Listening to her screams, seeing her father being loaded into the ambulance, and watching as other people came outside, I began thinking about the city. Not a specific city in general, just that overwhelming atmosphere of strangers. I grew up in the suburbs and never lived in the heart of a city, so I’m not accustomed to that non-stop lifestyle. I might consider giving it a shot maybe next summer, but it would have to be the right neighborhood.
As a writer and a down to earth person, I don’t think I could deal with that pressure of living in a city unless the vibe was just right. It’s not the fact that all my neighbors would most likely be strangers, it’s the reality of death, ambulances, crime, partying, and a bunch of noise that keeps the city alive. It’s fun to be in the city and have a night on the town, but it’s unlikely I’d live in the heart of a metropolis.
I suppose it can be attributed to the anti-social nature that writers often retreat to in height of their creativity. Take J.D. Salinger for instance, the author of the American classic Catcher in the Rye. He lived way off in the woods of Cornish, NH as a recluse. Nobody barely ever saw him, but his solitude perfected his literary prowess.
Writers all have that quiet space, that zone where they can become one with their words. But getting in the space can often cost their social status. Ernest Hemingway put it best, “Writing, at its best, is a lonely life. Organizations for writers palliate the writer’s loneliness, but I doubt if they improve his writing. He grows in public stature as he sheds his loneliness and often his work deteriorates. For he does his work alone and if he is a good enough writer he must face eternity, or the lack of it, each day.”
The loneliness that comes from being a writer, is refreshing in my opinion. I have this amazing ability, sort of like a superhero, to be extremely popular and the life of the party. But when I go home and write, I become this knowledgeable recluse for the moment. The field data I collect while on my exhibitions of life come in handy for those quiet days in my writers sanctuary, but I still know how to have a healthy balance and not be an anti-social cat lady. That is definitely not going to bring my mom grandchildren one day, so socializing is a must!