I know nothing…

and I don’t care (or do I care?).

Let’s face this one simple fact, or rather, let me face this one simple fact: I don’t know what the hell I am doing. I really don’t. Before you take to the races with assumptions, I am talking about writing. Storytelling. Novel writing. Blogging… the whole kit-n-kaboodle. I’ve been doing it for decades now, and I don’t feel that I am any better off now than I was then. I’d hope that maybe I’ve gotten wiser; although, that can be argued. When everything is considered though, I am unsure that anything that I am doing is right.

And that is OK.

It seems that what is right or wrong is pretty much a subjective trait of something. Mood can play into what I write being good or bad. Opinion is another factor. And I don’t know how to impact that in anyone other than myself (and I am not great at that all the time for certain). If that is the case, why should I worry?

That’s the point of why I am writing this. I think we all worry so much about knowing exactly what to do in all situations based on some idea from whatever. For instance, we fuss about “what exact word count do I have to have for a mystery novel?” Or we worry about every gnat’s ass grammar rule, forgetting that a) it’s only super important to a select number of people and b) my god is it subjective… sure, there are hard-and-fast rules, but have you heard about some of those grammar battles over what sound like trivialities? Yikes.

Shit, most of the books I read I either enjoyed or I didn’t. They entertained me, or they didn’t. Even when I see something I catch as a mistake in a book, it never has made me stop and yell, “well, fuck! That writer obviously knows nothing and therefore I can never read [insert pronoun here] work again!” It doesn’t happen! Those who do that are called grammar nazis, and there’s a special place in hell for those folks.

No writer is infallible as every writer is human, and I have yet to meet a perfect human.

My point is I am trying to embrace the fact that I know nothing because it means that I can learn. I can build my own rules. I can write stories that I like, that I enjoy.

And I can only hope others do to.

But if they don’t, would it matter if I still had fun writing them?

Featured Image by salmerf from Pixabay

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