In January of 2009 I set sail into the vast ocean of the blogosphere with my first blog, Pig Alley Musketeer. The name paid homage to the 1912 movie, ‘The Musketeers of Pig Alley’, which is credited with being the first gangster movie. My intention was to comment on whatever subject matter happened to be in the forefront of my mind at the moment. From the entertainment world to politics and sports.
Like a straight Perez’ Hilton, with less pink and no cheesy captions.
I kept writing as the Pig Alley Musketeer but noticed my work had taken a decisive shift from entertainment, politics, and general ranting’s into writing about me. Not so much about just me but me as a friend, a brother, a son, a husband, and most importantly, me as a dad. It was here when the light of inspiration hit me like the bat flying through Bruce Wayne’s window, I would become a dad blogger (minus the utility belt).
Thus was born Founding a Father.
I have maintained Founding a Father since that time. I have posted close to 200 articles that talk about my family, my friends, my dog, my wife, and my kids. I had tried, with the hustle of life battling me, to keep up a regular schedule of posting new articles to add to Founding a Father. That is, until recently. You see, recently, I had a bump in the road (more like a sinkhole in the middle of the road).
I began to question my work. I questioned its legitimacy, impact, creativity, and just how good it was. I also allowed doubt to work its way in to me. Why was I writing at all? Is what I have to say worth offering up to people? Was all of it, in the end, worth continuing?
As of 3 weeks ago, in my mind, it wasn’t. I was done. Founding a Father was going to be no more.
I closed my black writing book, turned off the laptop and even took a break (briefly) from Twitter and Facebook. I had to figure out what was going on in my head. So before I turned the lights off at Founding a Father, I did a little more soul searching.
Three years in to this excursion, part of me (the egotistical dreamer part) believed I would be the next Dave Berry or Erma Bombeck. Syndicated. Published. Successful. Read by thousands if not more daily. Three years in to this excursion and not one deal from a publisher has come my way and damn if I have not yet heard from Rachel Ray’s people about coming on the show.
Three years in to this excursion, part of me (the realistic, I have to pay the electric bill by the 15th, part) wondered if I had anything else left to say? I have pilfered the experiences of being a married father of 2 girls for the better part of those 3 years but was there anything else? And if there was something else, was I good enough, to think I could write about it?
Three years in to this excursion, part of me (the father and husband part that barely has time to take a shower in peace let alone keep up with writing part) thought there was no time. There were not enough minutes in the day for me to do all the things I am required to do and then have time for the things I want to do (required: spending 90 minutes helping both kids with their homework want: not spend 90 minutes helping the kids with their homework).
I tossed these things around my head these past few weeks. I told my wife I was finished then I talked to the dog and decided to keep up with it (not sure what the cat thinks, I haven’t discussed it with her). During the commute to work I talked myself out of it then right back in to it. I had another conversation with my wife and leaned towards continuing with it. I talked to a friend last night and he opened up my eyes a little further (thanks Charlie). I slept on all of this back and forth and woke up this morning as if the fog had been lifted.
Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, between stubbing my toe trying to get to the bathroom and dreaming about how me and Harry Truman would survive the zombie apocalypse in a pink Avon Cadillac together (this is what happens when you eat sour cream and onion chips before bed), I came to my conclusion.
I didn’t set out in January of 2009 because I thought I would become famous. I am not doing any of this for money or guest spots on a talk show. Granted, I won’t be turning those things down if they come my way (unless it’s Dr. Phil, no way I do that show), but that was not what drove me. (Side note: Any of you have stopped by to read my ramblings, thank you. You have no idea how much I appreciate that.) I came to the conclusion that not having any time is an excuse. I figure, just today, I wasted at least 3 hours. No more excuses. And lastly, I came to the conclusion, while I will always be my harshest critic, I need to have the confidence that what I write is good but remember too, not everything I write will have the Pulitzer committee calling me (and that’s ok).
Now here I sit, it is 1:30 in the morning and I am at my dining room table, or what I like to call my office, listening to my “writing mix” on iTunes getting ready to hit ‘PUBLISH’ again. I’m back. It feels good. It feels right (despite knowing I’ll have at least 5 grammatical mistakes in this, Lord knows I’ll never find them). I’m glad three weeks ago I didn’t listen to myself and quit. It wouldn’t have felt right to not keep going with this no matter what the end result of it is or will be. So now it is time to get back to it. I hope to you enjoy reading all of it as much as I am going to enjoy writing it.
To be continued…