Confessions of an Imperfectionist
Welcome
These are some of my musings on creativity, best art tips, probably some nature observances, actual confessions of lived experience, and other assorted, disjointed ramblings. I write what I need to read and remember, and hope you might find it useful. In general, these posts are my explorations of what it is like to be a creative neurodiverse individual, living an unconventional life as a solo freelance artist in these strange times. Always the girl who talked too much; I’ve learned I like to externally process things, and writing when I want to here helps me process, organize, and remember my thoughts.
I am not a medical practitioner and the contents of this blog are not to be interpreted as medical advice.
Always consult a medical professional for health or mental health concerns.
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I hope you will come along. ~Jen Burgess
Tiger & (ex)Wife
Dear Téa Obreht,
I’m so sorry. You were right. I am a writer.
When I met you at your book signing you said to me, blogging is writing. I was not in the headspace to allow your words to land properly. I could not look past my own insecurities to take into account your authority, as the published author of a book I enjoyed, to know what you’re talking about. To know that one doesn’t have to be all that good at something, or even paid for something, to own a title like writer, or artist…
I am (also) a writer.
After she finished her reading, I waited patiently between the rows of folding chairs for the author to sign my copy of her first novel, The Tiger’s Wife. It had been on my mind for weeks since I read it in nearly one sitting, and as I waited I clutched it to my chest. I watched her interacting with the folks in front of me, smiling at them openly, radiantly, while they praised her words and she thanked them. It was long enough ago that all the details are blurry, though I remember her smile and glowing complexion. When it was my turn I passed her my book and as she opened it she smiled up at me and asked —