It's Just Me, In the End

It amazes me how much a small virus can affect my motivation...thus, the blog posts have slowed to a crawl. I refuse to be one of those people who shares every detail of her life, so suffice it to say I will NOT blog about being sick and how that kept me from blogging...so there!

The other night I attended the bi-monthly writing group I recently joined and I realized that sometimes I just don't get it - writing, I mean. I don't understand what makes someone a "good" writer versus a "mediocre" writer, how some people get a book deal while others languish in their eloquence, starving for acceptance into that prestigious world of publishing...and sometimes just starving. For real, as artists.

I also don't understand how some so-called "musicians" have their songs played on the radio five hunderd times an hour and others are left to open mike nights for a pittance of the cover charged to drunk college kids who couldn't care less whether there is a live band or not. What is going on? Is there just that big of a difference in opinion? Do people simply have such diverse tastes? And isn't there enough diversity to go around?

The conspiracy theorist lurking just beneath my surface pipes in that "the man" wants us all to like the same force-fed, media-approved blandness - that too much diversity in our tastes leads to too much diversity in our thoughts, which leads to independent thinking and making up our own minds. (Cue the "X-Files" theme song and get me a tin-foil hat...stat!!) But really, why can't we have more choices than "Fall Out Boy" or "Panic! At the Disco" when I can't tell the difference between them and neither one can sing? (And this can't just be MY opinion, can it?)

Anyway, I will meander my way back to my original track and just say that, personally, I am going to continue to write what I want and read what I like and listen to what moves me and if that happens to be mainstream, so be it. And if not, okay too. I might never get a book deal and I may not understand what constitutes "good" writing, but in the end, when it is me with a blank page in front of me, does it even matter?