call me a wannabe
an exercise in being seen trying
welcome to my latest venture into the realm of doing things because i want to, not because i am extraordinarily talented at them. younger me would cringe at the audacity, yet here we are.
i’ve been pretty good at managing how i am perceived for most of my life, but, as it turns out, that actually keeps you from a lot of living. so, for the past year, i’ve been working to unlearn that doing things is only safe when you’re already good at them. i picked up my guitar and started playing, picked up my pen and started writing, picked myself up off the floor and kept stumbling forward on an earth that writhed.1
i want to be okay with being seen trying and failing. we’re doing ourselves a disservice by valuing the way we are perceived higher than our own experience of life. i’ll gladly be a try-hard, what’s the shame in trying hard (i mean not all the time, i’m also lazy, but you know what i mean). go on, call me a wannabe, where’s the shame in striving to become who you want to be. and i invite you to be one, too. us wannabes might have more anxiety, but we also have more fun.
part of letting go of perfectionism and control is writing you this letter, my first ever post, before having figured out what exactly i want this substack, The Wannabe Papers, to be. i do want to give you a rough idea of what to expect and what’s recently been on my mind though, so here are some fragments straight from my notes app:
am i a woman woman or something else entirely?
the quiet confidence that comes with allowing for rejection
our bodies are the interface that allows us to experience this world, nothing more and nothing less.
i love so i am a lover
i sing so i am a singer
i write so i am a writer
mangetout by Wet Leg is fucking gold
shame is a pretty reliable marker that there’s something there that’s worth exploring
am i giving myself grace or am i just indulging my every impulse?
standing up for yourself vs. the benefit of the doubt
i’ve rejected what is harmful with confidence but i might have forgotten to fill the void with something better.
the ethics of wanting
i want to challenge myself to write about the things that make me uncomfortable, to think deeply about what brings me joy, discuss the creative process, take you with me as i explore identity and self. i write to bring to light the parts of myself that are lingering in the grey, somewhere on the periphery of my consciousness, not yet fully understood. plus, there will be some pop-culture sprinkled into the mix for good measure. i can’t wait for all of us to find out what this will grow into.
as i’m writing this, the post i was originally working on is ogling me from the drafts folder. it’s an essay on the entanglement of fandom and identity, how in fandom we find space to explore what we don’t allow for otherwise, especially as queer people. it’s very personal to me and i want to make sure to get it ‘right’, so it might need to sit for a few more days. it’ll probably land on your fyp and in your inboxes next week or the week after that.
to be seen trying only works if you’re being witnessed, so i thank you for reading.
luca x
(i promise this substack is not gonna be spice girls themed, i’ve just had wannabe stuck in my head since i started writing this post)
extra points and a kiss for anyone who recognises which song i listened to this morning that might have inspired this phrasing
This was a lovely thing to read. There’s something quietly brave about announcing a beginning before you’ve built the map for it. It feels a bit like opening a door and inviting people in while the paint is still drying and the furniture hasn’t quite decided where it wants to live yet. I like that. Life is far more interesting in rooms where people are still moving things around.
I also love the stubborn tenderness in what you’re doing. Letting yourself be seen trying is a kind of rebellion against the tidy little myth that we’re only allowed on stage once we’re polished. The truth is that trying is the whole show. The guitar slightly out of tune, the half-formed essay, the questions about identity that don’t resolve neatly. That’s where the good weather of living actually happens.
Your fragments are great as well. They feel like sparks from different corners of the same fire. The line “i love so i am a lover / i sing so i am a singer / i write so i am a writer” has a quiet authority to it. No gatekeepers required. Just the act itself.
And for what it’s worth, I think writing before you know exactly what the project will become is the right instinct. Some things only reveal their shape while they’re being walked through. The Wannabe Papers already feels like it has a pulse.
I adore this 💕
I say maintain the spice girls theme