The Purge

The purge is coming.

No, not that one. I know Halloween is right around the corner, but not everything needs to be all "murder-y", mmkay?

I mean the emotional and mental purge that comes with writing. Any writer can attest to the transformative benefits of leaving it all on the page, of taking your swirling torrent of thoughts and feelings and putting them down in some form, whether it is sensical or not. Some of my best writing, my most honest words, have taken place when I wasn't trying to get it right; I was just trying to get it out.

2014 was a banner year of suckitude for me. 2015 didn't start out any better. But what got me through, what kept my sanity (largely) intact, was writing. I poured my heart out. In blog posts, freelance work, and my personal WIPs, I laid my soul bare. Made an emotional mess and then came back later to reassess and clean it up. And it worked.

2016 has, thus far, been a fantastic year. A few struggles here and there, and stress like you wouldn't believe, but overall a year of growth and love and happiness and gratitude. Yet my anxiety has run amok. Why? Because I haven't been writing as much. I haven't maintained the purge.

Over the course of rediscovering the badass woman I am and making my life what I want it to be, I allowed myself to become too busy for writing. I have a tendency to make everyone else my priority, to make sure everything else is taken care of first. There's always something to do, something to attend to, another set of adulting to accomplish. (The curse of an overly-nice, overly-responsible, Type A first-born, perhaps? Also, procrastinator. But who's counting?)

Anyhoo, after several conversations with my besties, and a few emotional breakdowns to my amazing, long-suffering, and ever-supportive man, I'm taking back the reins on my writing. It's the only way I feel complete, the only way I feel truly centered. Yoga is great. Tea is fantastic. But only writing, only the act of unceremoniously dumping words on a page (and then cursing myself during the editing process) gets me to the mental and emotional zen space I crave.

This blog is only one facet of this. It keeps me focused on the larger task at hand. I currently have two works in progress going. One, a YA dystopian novel that, ironically, plays right into our current political cycle. The other, a contemporary chick lit romance with lots of bad words and dry, sarcastic assessments of life in your 30s. I also have four more novels started, and about ten bouncing around in my head for later. Plenty of fodder for keeping myself busy and utilizing the creative outlet at which I am best.

So like I said. The purge is coming.

No, still not that one. Weirdos.

I Like Big Words and I Cannot Lie...

My name is Sarah and I'm a wordaholic.

I like words. I like the history behind words. I like the nuances and subtleties of purposefully selecting one word over another in order to convey a highly specific meaning. I love to read words, write words, and learn new words daily.

In short, I'm a total nerd.

In a society that seems to embrace the evisceration of the written word-- replacing proper grammar with leet speak, unnecessary abbreviations, and trendy nonsense slang-- I still make a point to use the real words behind those meanings. I text in full, grammatically correct sentences. I utilize multisyllabic words, even when a monosyllabic one may suffice. My eye twitches whenever someone uses the improper version of to/too/two, your/you're, their/there/they're, etc. I refuse to use words like "bae", "turnt", and "on fleek". I do not shorten sentences down to "lol" or "omg". And don't even get me started on the sheer laziness of using numbers to replace words. It does not take that much longer to type the actual letters. And yes, I'm am a self-proclaimed Grammar Nazi.

To me, the vernacular choices I make reflect my manner of thinking, the things I've read, and my thirst for knowledge. Honestly, my vocabulary seems normal to me; the words I utilize are part of my everyday conversations and trains of thought. I like to challenge myself, to keep learning, to keep my mind active.

Because of this, I'm frequently accused of being pretentious.

This used to bother me.

Greatly.

I hated the thought of being seen as a hoity toity book snob. I felt judged and misunderstood.

But you know what? I'm good with it now!

Because I'm saddened by the dumbing down of our society. I'm disappointed to see intelligence derided and devalued for the sake of fleeting celebrity trends. I don't harp on the immutable use of language, because I understand that language is, in and of itself, fluid and ever changing. But I also uphold the importance of challenging ourselves to learn and grow, and not become mentally complacent. Does this make me old fashioned? Possibly. Does it make me pretentious? That's for others to decide. Anyone who knows me personally understands I'm not a snob. I'm just a booknerd writer who loves the complexities of language.

However, the assumptions others make about me based solely on my manner of speaking and writing does provide one other benefit beyond my wit, learning aptitude, and intelligence... the title for this blog!

So follow along as this pretentious pedant employs her extensive and highly diversified jargon to provide thoughtful commentary on the world around her whilst finishing her forthcoming novel...