I worry a lot.  I worry that I got into writing for the wrong reasons and I’m too deep in my education to change that.  I worry that beauty will fade and be replaced with suffering.  I worry that ghosts of Christmases past will bear over me for all of my days, eventually driving me to the madness of terrible decision making.  But maybe worries aren’t a bad thing.  I mean, what is the marathon addict running from?  What hides in Stephen King’s closet that he can only keep at bay by projecting his ghastly fantasies onto paper?  How did Dali and Picasso see the world that they needed to express themselves as they did?  I worry that we all fear something, but perhaps fear is a good motivator.  Maybe if I’m always afraid that I am not a good enough writer, I will always strive to be better.  Maybe if I think that world is dying, I’ll get things done quicker.  Maybe my misguided motivations will come back around.

What I’m beginning to figure out is that when I was young, the world was simple.  Kids have a special kind of confidence – or a gift rather – in that they have the courage to know exactly what they want.

They know they want ice cream.   They know they want power ranger dolls (dating myself).  Even teenagers know who they love and who they belong with.  It’s us, adults and the world we’ve created, that teaches them to complicate and fear.  Ice cream is high in calories.  Power ranger dolls are more valuable if you keep them in the original packaging.  Maybe she’s just not that into you.

This is what I am afraid I’m beginning to realize in my own writing.  Back when I started, I knew I was going to make it.  I knew who I was going to be and I knew what I was going to write.  A Master’s Degree later, I only now realize how many times I had to compromise myself to “succeed”.  Writing takes editing and criticism.  Not every idea ends as pure as it began.  Somewhere along the line, the wording  changed from “I’m going to make it” to “I have to make it”.  This may seem like a very subtle difference, but you have to realize that the entire attitude behind it has shifted.  “I’m going to make it” has a nonchalance, a bravado that would seem foolish to a world-broken adult, but it’s the dialogue of a dreamer.  It’s poetic and beautiful.  “I have to make it” goes right along with death and taxes.  It is the dialogue of responsibility and obligation.  The idea is not pulling me anymore, I am dragging the idea along.

So, the meat and potatoes of this post is:  Why do I choose to write this blog?  Large portions of it surely is to vent frustrations in a more civilized manner than trolling on facebook and twitter about the lady ahead of me in the grocery line.  But there is something more.  It is beyond creating something of value.  It is about harnessing (not creating, because it is already there) the value within myself.  I want to be a better writer, and the only way to do that is by writing.  I am a foolhardy romantic and I would like to think that makes for good internet.  I am seeking that silly teenager who wasn’t afraid of anything.

So in my own strange way, I’ve somewhat introduced myself to you.  If you could, do the same on the tweets @CPCornier and let me know what you think.  What do you want out of this blog?  What do you want from blogs?  Am I doing this right?

Thank you everybody reading this, and I wish you well in all your endeavors.  I’m going to make it.  God Bless.