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Occasional Snob

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Sometimes I’m a little bit snobby. I like to think I just have high standards. I expect people to try as hard as I do, and seeing as how I don’t think very highly of myself, I figure it shouldn’t be a problem for anyone, ever. I’ve just spent a good part of the day catching up on my food blogs. I gotta tell ya, there are a lot of bad writers out there in the food blog world.

Well, who the hell am I to be judging someone else’s writing? Look at the drivel that gets posted here. Emo nonsense and ineffective adverbs abound. I may not be the best writer, but I do spend a ton of time reading. I know good writing when I see it. I also know when people are trying too hard to be literary. And I definitely notice every error you forgot to fix. It’s a blog, not a book. You can update it at any time. Go back and fix that junk.

And then there are the people who just can’t seem to make a sentence to save their lives. It hurts my brain. It really does. I’ll make your recipes, but if you really want me to fall in love with your blog, you have to be able to express yourself in written words. This isn’t even taking into account those blogs that are just plain boring. But that’s a matter of personal taste.

And after reading that dull diatribe, you now know how I feel after a whole day of reading boring blogs. Ick. I need to try harder.

I need to go to bed.


Letters from a Pretend Writer

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55327_girl-writing_lgToday at work, in addition to my normal, mind-numbingly boring tasks, I got to spend about a bit of time being creative. My boss asked me to help her write a couple of her donor thank you letters this month. To her surprise, I finished them in about a half an hour, but it was the most interesting thing I’ve done all week.

Words have always come easily to me. I read a lot, I talk a lot, and occasionally, I write things and even less occasionally, people read them. And though my boss was surprisingly impressed with my work, I’ve never thought of myself as a writer.

Writing is something that other much more intelligent and sophisticated people do. People who lead interesting lives and are brimming with clever ideas. People who have something to say that other people want to know about. I am not one of those people. I know a couple of writers. They are super cool. I am super lame.

Like so many other jobs, becoming a writer always seems like something that happens to someone by magic. I know they work hard in real life, but it’s difficult for me to imagine when their genius words simply appear in my hands or on my screen. My father always said I should be a writer. I always just laughed. That could never be me.

Perhaps being an office slave isn’t my destiny, but I have no idea where the professional side of my life is going. I’m just happy for a judgment-free place to ramble. It was library day, so I get to start a new novel and learn the voice of a new author. I get to drink in someone else’s life. I am endlessly in awe of those who get paid to put words on a page and shape the world with them. You are my heroes.