Filling Pages

I always feel good when I'm writing. I like getting a story out onto paper so it's not cluttering my mind anymore. But I've found it's different writing without readers. I didn't know how much I depended on feedback until I wasn't getting any. I had a variety of readers throughout four semesters of undergrad workshops and two in grad school (not counting the comedy writing workshops that had the most excellent critique sessions). My boss and art manager read my stories at my last job, and while part of me thinks they'd still be willing to do so, the more logical part thinks it's unfair to ask that of them. The smaller, nosier part hates the idea of them reading my work in a place where I cannot peek over the cubicle wall and watch their facial expressions.

It also doesn't help that, besides the story collection I wrote in November, my pieces have been personal essays. I mean, personal essays. I like writing them because it gets the thoughts out of my head; I like taking jumbled ideas and smoothing them into well-written lines that make me seem intelligent and aware of my own issues.
     When I think of my ideal audience, I think "People who have no clue who I am and will not recognize me if they see me on the street." When I think of how to get these essays to that audience, I draw a blank. I cannot say "Let them be read and commented upon by people who know me and would not only recognize me on the street, but have my phone number and sometimes meet me for coffee and meals." It just can't be done.

I'm wondering if a fiction program was a bad choice for my MFA. I have no problem writing and sharing fiction. What if I had been a nonfiction student? What if I was taught how to write true things people would want to read, and how to keep them from being too personal so they could, you know, be read?

I choose to see the bright side - I am writing. I am putting words on paper and they are making me smile and nod and think "Yes, this is good stuff" and occasionally even "Wow, I didn't know I had this in me." I am back to doing my best thinking in the shower and hurrying to get out and pick up a pen - Oh how I need you, AquaNotes!
     I am also plotting out the next year of my life and even, uncharacteristically of me, trying to see through the haze into the life that will surely exist beyond the next year. There are too many options that do not share even a small portion of the same path, and I have no idea where I want to walk. That is all up in the air, so in addition to those personal essays you can't read? You can't read about my plans, either.

What can you read about? I'm not sure yet. But I like to think I am a writer, and I like to think I am funny, and I like to think my life is awkward and uncharted for the sole purpose of amusement, so something will come.