You come to a point, as a writer, where you have to choose.
What's more important?
That people love me, respect me, cherish me?
Or that I tell it like it is and stay true to the story, no matter the consequences?
On the day I first chose to write about my struggles with alcoholism, I chose the latter.
I knew when I started out with blogging that my goal was not to write reviews about mascara (though I do not in any way begrudge those who are on that path. I often defer to their opinions when purchasing products).
But for me, personally, writing was and continues to be a passion beyond words, something I can feel, something I can taste, something I both love and hate at times. I am a slave to it; beckoned by it's siren, forced to be at it's whim.
Plus, there is nothing quite like the high of a well placed adjective.
Writing my column, This Modified Life, for The Orange County Register has allowed me the opportunity to invite a wider audience into my life and I continue to choose the path of truth; my truth. It is also forcing me, as a writer, to come to terms with the fact that not everyone out there is going to love me, or love my writing, or my opinons. In fact, there are people out there that are downright going to be annoyed with what I have to say (or, maybe even worse, won't even care). I am feeling the sting of that, especially today, in response to an article I wrote about standing up for my special needs son.
But you know what? Thanks to some of these folks that seem to have a rather unpleasant attitude (I'm trying to be polite) about what I have to say in this particular piece, I am growing some thicker skin, and realizing that if I really want to rock the world one word at a time, I have to be willing to take some heat.
Which I am, so bring it.
It's a small price to pay to get to do what I love. And maybe, if I'm lucky, I'll be able to make a positive difference in someone's life.
Like my own.