Just Who Am I, Anyway?

When I first started doing this stuff, I wrote

I am Jane Vodka! Here I shall vent my vitriol!

and I did it enthusiastically.

I set up a second web page at http://janevodka.com/ and wrote

Here is where my darkest dreams will come true…

and I was enthralled with what I had planned.

And I have vented vitriol. But I have done it mostly on FaceBook or on Twitter.

And I have dreamed… but they have been mostly in my head. They haven’t made it to my webpage. Which is where I had planned to promote all of the great stories I had planned to write.

But…  I seem to lose track of what I want to do, of who I am and how I want to do it.

Sometimes I want to jump into some of the current hot-button topics and NUKE the idiots I see posting. Then, sometimes, I realize I might be the idiot. All in all, I do my best to stay out of it, because I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, and I certainly don’t want them to hurt mine.

But where does that leave me?

I thought I wanted to get on the internet and tell the whole world just exactly what I thought of them. I thought wrong. I don’t want to do that. I want…

I want to make people smile. I want to entertain them and make them forget about how crappy the world really is. Even if that means I am venting about something really crappy in the world. I want to find a way to point out the stupid that makes people laugh, not that makes the stupid angry.

Is there a way to do that?

I don’t know.

I want to write romances. I want to fall in love with my characters. I want other people to fall in love with my characters. But I want to make it sexy! But when I read romances…

It seems to much that the characters were stolen right out of the last book. It seems like the sexy is really … perverted. Is there a way I can write stores that are interesting, have characters, and are sexy without damaging my own sensibilities?

I don’t know.

When I first thought of doing all this stuff, it was all I could think about. I was so excited!

Now, I have a half dozen stories all partially written, and whenever I think of working on them, I think of catching up on Arrow or doing laundry instead.

I used to hold things in my head that I wanted to Tweet or FB about, but now, I think… What if that person ends up being my only fan, and they find that post and recognizes it as themselves and it hurts their feelings.

I used to think being a writer would be easy.  That being funny would be fun.

Now… before I have even put anything out there for anyone to really see, I find myself shooting myself down, doubting myself, not having fun.

Who am I?

Am I a writer? Can I be Jane Vodka, the snarky alcoholic?

Or am I just old and tired, doomed to watch daytime talk shows between arguments with my family?

Shit. I need a drink.

Hey!

Well! Hello, Jane! There you are! I missed you!

Let’s go make fun of your husband some more before he catches on to what you are up to!