I wish I could show you my drafts.
It’s a lot of half-baked ideas and topics that have long since lost relevance, or someone with better writing chops or acumen got to before I could. Some drafts are maybe a sentence or two; others are a few paragraphs that could have been something fun.
It’s probably not a great sign for me that I want to write more, that I might want people to pay me for this endeavor someday, and I stall out miserably every time I try. I’m in a Ryan Fitzpatrick cycle, where things are happening in a constant loop:
Though I’m not a journeyman quarterback, the cycle feels endless and always the same. I get a job I like but say I’ll write more on the side. I don’t have time to write like I say I want to. I leave said job and suddenly have a life crossroads. I think I want to start writing for dollars. I realize I don’t have the experience and I buckle on any project I want to start out of paralyzing fear and defeatism. I find another job because I can’t figure out what else to do. The cycle begins anew.
If you’re curious where I am currently in this seemingly infinite loop, I’m at the “buckling in paralyzing fear” part.
About two months ago, I lost my job, one that I very much enjoyed. It was a mutual departure, where it was pretty clear to everyone that I wasn’t succeeding at everything and there were some things I excelled at, but there was no other job area I could move to. I was the one that suggested that at any other startup or business like where I was, I’d have been fired by now. And, more or less, that happened. I don’t necessarily hold any ill will, but shit — it was a punch in the gut. We all know that person at work who’s nice enough, but sucks at their job. It’s not fun to have the realization that you’re that person. It really hurts your confidence.
I feel that loss of confidence bleeding into my writing. It was a nice cope that, in my final two weeks of work, I told myself that I’d write more and really stick to it this time. Last summer when I didn’t have a job, I was on a multi-month bender. This time, I said, I’m better now. More focused. More willing to put the work in and less scared to make the jump to churning out more content than stupid tweets.
And here we are. Very little content, very little else going on. Unsure how to start anything or see something through to fruition, including on here.
I appreciate when people enjoy what I do write, truly (if you’ve read anything in here or over at Die by the Blade and enjoyed it, I’m humbled that you think I’m good). It’s heartening. But, even with that validation, it’s hard to see that myself. It’s hard to want to write anything when it feels like there’s really no light at the end of the tunnel and your best bet is to simply turn back, to restart the cycle of suck all over again.
I wish I had a better answer for my coworkers when they ask me what year I am in college.
I work part-time at a garden center now, and my coworkers think I’m twenty. Well, actually, I’m quite a few years older than that, I tell them. I tell them where I went to school, and I tell them that I “freelance” on the side but love working here (which is true, and, for what it’s worth, there’s no such thing as “unskilled labor,” but that’s for another day). The aforementioned debilitating lack of confidence I feel is evident here, too, being that I’m not a twenty-something who needed a summer job and not a retiree who loves flowers and lives down the street. I’m not really sure who I am or where I fit, so saying I freelance makes me sound more important than I am.
I remember the hubris I often carried (and when it comes to sports, still carry) about where I went to school, especially at former jobs. I think about how much prestige there’s supposed to be in saying I went to Michigan. Friends from college have well-paying, white-collar jobs, advancing professionally and personally, with real career trajectory and forward momentum. As for me, I was smart but aimless in school, and didn’t network the right way or follow a clear path because academics came easy to me. I thought I could simply waltz into anything I wanted to, despite pivoting my future from law school to academia to the workforce within a semester and a half. While time has humbled me and I’ve lost that smugness that defined my early 20s, it’s hard not to compare myself to others, or feel like a loser. I mean, fuck, even if the Unabomber is a horrific example of a Michigan alum, at least he did something, you know?
Sure, I write and edit now and again. I’ve gotten some work. I can’t help but feel the weight of failure, though, as I tell people I freelance, knowing it’s bullshit. I’m equal parts too unconfident to go for things I know I’m capable of, and too caught up in the fact that I’ve always been this unfocused and aimless when opportunities come my way. It’s easier than telling people I don’t know what I do, either.
In music, “vamping” refers to repeating a musical passage until you get told you can move ahead to the next one. You end up playing the same few bars over and over and over again until you’re released from repetition by the conductor or band leader. Often, you’re doing this to buy time.
That’s how I feel right now — repeating the same bars on infinite loop, with no end in sight until something breaks me out of the cycle. I’m buying myself time by saying I’m freelancing. I’m buying myself time by being open about all of these insecurities and changes I’m dealing with. I’m buying myself time by writing this so you know where all those half-assed ideas I toss out on Twitter ended up. I’m buying myself time.
The point of all of this is not to complain, but rather to acknowledge how I’m feeling, and hope the words I’m sharing with all of you are cathartic for me. Maybe this self-awareness is what gets me out of the loop, out of the cycle. I try to think of where I’m at as vamping because vamping implies that you’re not permanently stuck — something is coming soon to help me find resolution. I think. I hope.
All this said: I’m not sure what that means for this Substack, or for any of my writing or “content,” really. I have even more half-baked ideas I’d love to try and get cooking, but I’ve learned now to be more realistic with what I can pull off. I will get back to my usual irreverence for sports eventually (which is what you’re all here for), but I needed an opportunity to use this space to share where I’m at, in hopes that this is what propels me forward into my next endeavor. For now, though, thanks for reading and understanding, and being cool while I’m figuring it out.
This really struck a chord with me, because I've had so many of these same thoughts and worries, and I've felt so frustrated with myself. I tend to have imposter syndrome, and feel like I'm never truly qualified enough or experienced enough for anything, even if I'm praised for my ability to do it. Everything that I've accomplished feels like a fluke, and it's scary to imagine having a go of it in the future because it just seems like there are so many things that can go wrong.
I totally relate to that idea of, "what will I possibly tell people about where I am in school?" How long I've been here, and what I've accomplished, versus what people would have expected me to accomplish by now. I was always a great student and I felt like there were a lot of high expectations for me, from my parents, teachers, and whoever else. I completely burned out when I reached college, and never fully recovered. I couldn't decide on a major or career path; I quite literally had enough credits at the end of my undergrad to have graduated at least twice over. But then I never got over that final hump of starting a career, and it always seemed so remote and not possible.
In a way, I feel like my drifting in life is kind of like your desire to write professionally. It's like, you feel like you could or even should be able to do it, or at least to try harder to get there. Part-time jobs just aren't fulfilling, and after a while, it's like, what am I doing here? I need to focus on my future. Been there too. I'm actually in the middle of that now.
So now I have a master's degree in history that I've never applied after 6 years. I had originally planned to go on to my PhD and do research and teach, but the longer I'm away from that academic life, and the more I feel like my brain gets kinda scrambled by life and that I'm almost a different person now than I was in school, the less likely it seems that I'll ever accomplish that.
Anyway, I graduated from high school in 2000, finally got a Bachelor's in 2013, and my Master's in 2016. I currently work part-time stocking groceries at Meijer. I'm a stay-at-home dad of two kids, mostly, and I love them, but I never can pick a lane. I don't want part-time, low-paid work to define me. I feel like I can't pursue the career I had imagined. I've thought about just quitting work in general and embracing being a true full-time parent, but that somehow doesn't seem right either. My mind is too scattered to focus on much of anything. I've had depression for a long time now, and that keeps getting in my way.
So I get what you said when you wrote that you kinda keep repeating the same loop until something breaks you out of it. I noticed you said that something (external) will have to break you out of it; maybe you feel like you just don't trust that you'll ever do it yourself. That's where I am, too. And I'm also aware that it's a self-fulfilling prophecy. But in the meantime, I'll keep avoiding people I knew from one of my "previous lives" doing what I used to do, because I feel so embarrassed with not having accomplished enough with my life at my age.
Anyway. Sorry. This was a very, very long post from a stranger. But I just felt the urge to write something so maybe you'd know that a lot of what you said really resonated with me, and that you're not in that boat alone. And hey, both of us have a lot of life left (you, undoubtedly, a little bit more than me.) Thanks for indulging me.
Thank you for sharing this. This resonated with me. A lot.
I was aimless throughout school. I switched majors often enough to earn dual degrees in undergrad and then thought it’d be a good idea to move to Buffalo and get an MBA. Once I finished and finally needed to find a “real job”, I floundered. Confidence was something I lacked, mainly because I couldn’t stop comparing myself to others.
I also loved to write (still do, but sports journalism was something I did all religiously throughout college). For several years, part of me held out for that Everybody Loves Raymond-style of living that is perceived to come with a sportswriter’s salary. That has nothing to do with my point here though.
It kills me to suggest it, but have you considered moving to a larger metro area? One that will maybe allow you to “taste” a little bit more?
I consider Buffalo a second home. It is one of my favorite places on earth and I visit annually. But I moved to the SF Bay Area about two years after finishing grad school because I just could not see it happening for me in WNY.
I did not have a job waiting for me out west. Or a place to live. Or any connections actually. Once I got there, I found someone looking a roommate on Craigslist and a job through a temp agency that I held until a more attractive position came along. Then just kept progressing little by little.
An area of that size and with such culture introduces you to a lot new things and people. It helped me to “find myself” when I was a little bit lost and identify which open door is the right one to walk through.
Again, I’m not here to dump on Buffalo (I still really want to move back one day) and I apologize for giving unsolicited advice. But I thought it’s worth throwing out here.