Happy Anniversary, Vocal (You Fickle Mistress)!

Three years ago, when I was still a bored young woman unwilling to get rid of Instagram, I saw an ad to become a paid freelance writer on a website called Vocal. Vocal was a place to write about whatever you could possibly want; get inspired, get busy, get some validation from other writers or casual readers on the internet. With a couple of weeks until the rise of 2018, I had been listlessly searching for something to change my luck around. Since my graduation in 2017 and subsequent smack in the face by the reality of millions of others just as desperate to find a good gig in life, I had been locked deep in a depressed haze. I couldn't seem to get myself out of the dense muck of incompetence and pessimistic anxiety to the point where I couldn’t ever see being happy with myself and what I was doing. Who I was becoming.

I used to love writing. Prior to my fall from self-confidence, I had written quite a lot- mostly fanfiction, which allowed me to seamlessly slip into a larger community than myself. I interacted with readers, was a reader myself, and enjoyed the process of writing. That fell to the wayside while I was in college, suddenly uninspired by the fandoms that had so captured me for years prior, unable to muster up creativity while I was writing essays and failing to get internships. I wished that I had been like so many other writers I dearly admire, who could keep writing while working full-time jobs, learning, and living full adult lives. Maybe that was a sign of how bad I’d be at being an actual adult, being so unable to keep up with my passions and obligations in a balanced fashion . . .

Well it had been about two solid years since I’d written anything that wasn’t going to be uploaded and scrutinized by a third party for my professors, is all I’m saying. And suddenly, that Vocal ad, it . . . It didn’t light a fire in me exactly? But it did stir something gently, nudged something ever so faintly, and I clicked on it with further intrigue.

So that started what would be a personally wonderful, if not financially remarkable, relationship. Which isn’t a bad thing! No complaints about the modest payments because truthfully I had no illusions on becoming that rare, amazing writer who could instantly grab the minds of thousands. This was my return to the world of writing after so long, and not even for fiction like I had done previously, so I knew there would be a “training curve”. Yes the potential to earn money was a factor in my decision to sign up for this website, but more than that I wanted a chance to regain a piece of myself that had been lost in my rocky journey.

That eloquent part, that curious and observing part that appreciated life, had gotten pushed aside by something else and I wanted it back. I was determined to not only reach that level of writer I once was, but to surpass it. Returning to writing was going to be my symbol of positive growth; I was going to change little by little, regaining the goodness in me that had been knocked out by useless attempts to play at being someone else I thought would fit into the world. It wasn’t going to be immediate, but I did hope for some measurable differences . . . which . . . well, turns out I really needed to relearn myself if I seriously forgot how long it took me to learn things.

My first couple of articles were trash. I’m not even kidding, my very first one (this fuddy duddy) was pretty fucking stupid. I didn’t even wait 48 hours before I posted it- I think I did one round of edits, grabbed a couple of pictures from Unsplash, rambled on without any concrete plan, and then just posted it for review without remorse. It didn’t get very many views, understandably so. A too wordy title, no clear path in the article, it was a bit of a failure as far as launch attempts go.

Despite my seemingly harsh words . . . I don't hate it, you know? It was my first step towards something good for myself, and it's nice to have a timeline of progression. As simple and useless as it is, I'm still proud of it.

And so years have passed, a couple of articles getting the high honor of being staff picks and one getting added to a pretty cool collection. I've written more and more, especially this year. I put out five articles in October alone and that's amazing! I think I might have put out 5 articles in the entirety of 2018, so definitely I've made some great strides in working on a skill I'm very proud of. I was a Vocal Plus member for about two months before I had to use that ten bucks on another bill, and come to some useful realizations about myself and consequently, my style of writing.

I’ve learned that I don’t like writing, and can’t properly write about, things I don’t have a genuine, vested interest in. Even if the topic is something I know isn’t popular or even truly sensible, if it interests me or seems right for the time, I’m typing it out and sending it through for the five or six people who will get it too.

I write about things that are maybe a little too personal, and they’re either well liked (“When I Realized I Am Aromantic”), or they’re not the right kind of personal (“Learning Curls”). I write about whimsical dream fluff ("A Virtual Manifestation"), and intense prose (“Have You Read This Yet?").

I write lists of the songs that portion out a small piece of me to whoever cares to listen ("The Dark Night Playlist").

I write about the movies that hold my heart ("Trick-r-Treat") and the dreams that haunt me ("Timeline Reset Festival").

I write about what suits me, and it’s, truly, not the best approach to take when wading into the frothing seas of freelance writing work, but I couldn’t do it any other way. I’ve spent years doing what has chained me, has scooped pieces out of me, and I’ve had it. I’m done working and thinking and hurting for others. What I work towards now, is what I desire. What I think about, is for my own heart. What I share to you, is for my own pleasure.

What I do now . . .

Vocal helped me to do it. Vocal helped me realize that I did have a voice that wasn’t solely for the purpose of parroting expected answers for a giant mechanism that held no space for my passion. Vocal helped me remember that there are other things to talk about besides how much things sucked, and how desperate the need for distraction is. Vocal helped me tap back into a broader world, and start to spread out feelers for what could be in it for me. Vocal helped me, and then I realized I needed to do more than just be helped. I needed to be active. I needed to be thinking.

I need to Live. Not Work.

So here’s to you Vocal. Here’s to this article that’s only going to get three read throughs and a hasty rush to review. Here’s to the impending end of this shit year, and this creative upheaval, and this new year that( I hope to all the Gods that care to hear) will be such a beautiful indulgence I’ll cry sugar cane instead of salt. Happy Anniversary, baby, and may we have an even better year than the last.