Alezandra Tolliver

I’m not a big fan of social media, which people find surprising considering my age. When my friend suggested working on my Twitter presence to start building an audience, I absolutely balked at the idea.  I had only gotten an account to get extra credit for a college class, and besides a few posts about grilled cheese and Westworld, I rarely used it. Still, I was at a point where I wanted to be a writer, and quite frankly the method of writing several works in isolation only to find success after my untimely death just isn’t the way anymore.  At least the dying part.  I still write alone mostly.

My initial goal was writing consistently.  Before this year, I struggled to write after I lost a story. I wanted to use my blog as an opportunity to get over my issues with writing stories and would push them on Twitter. So I started tweeting and meeting fellow writers. People talk about things from the antics of their small children and random encounters with strangers.  They ask for pictures of pets and about everyone’s favorite caffeinated beverage.  They also talk about writing. A lot. Every day, I see someone celebrate reaching word counts on their WIPs (works in progress) or finishing chapters and that shit is infectious. I was seeing people get closer and closer to holding one of their own books in their hands and think:

You all got me. I can’t ignore it anymore. I want to write a book, a thought the before-mention friend considered nothing short of a miracle.  There’s was a point in my life where I paradoxically wanted to write but didn’t want to.  Now, there is a book inside of me begging to breathe. I’m excited to explore this story and see where it goes.  I’m anticipating the late nights and grumpy mornings. I can’t wait for the moments where words evade me and I’m suddenly struck with the idea to break the blocking curse. I want to ramble nonsensical ideas to my friends, wild-haired and wide-eyed. And excited.  Needless to say, these are feelings I haven’t felt in a while.  I have loved every short story I have written, but I know I can do more.  To describe the realization that I believe in myself again is impossible. It feels good.

I guess this week’s blog post is a thank you to anyone I’ve talked to on Twitter. You’ve shown me that goals are obtainable and the joy of reaching them. I was looking for this for a long time and you all were the looking glass. I could never repay you, so I’ll just have to buy your books when I’m not broke. Happy writing.