I am sitting here in my little house at my little desk thinking not so little thoughts.
My mind is like a hungry mouse looking for cheese in a maze of long halls with blocked off exits. At some point, it simply said “Screw it!” and climbed over the walls and escaped!
I know what my mind is looking for….words. The pretty words. The right words. All of the pretty and right words that will all fit nicely onto a page and make pretty and nice stories.
But apparently today my brain has chosen to go on strike and all the pretty and right words are refusing to cross the picket line. Bastards!
So I do what I always do when nothing of quality comes to me.
I open all my works in progress (and there are a LOT of them!) and I just write a line here, change a phrase there, erase a paragraph over on that one…I do what I always do. I keep going at it.
And while I am struggling today, I was reminded by someone of supposed good intentions that maybe this was a mistake. Maybe I should not put my supposed talented eggs into this supposed merry little basket of stupid.
And maybe that person can bite me! I have enough disparate self doubt that I do not need any one’s help in that area. I know where my talents lay. I know what I can bring to the table.
Damn it to hell…
This little side show of mental button pushing reminded me of a piece of poetry by a man called Charles Bukowski. Personally-not a fan of his work. And this particular piece (called So You Want to Be a Writer) kind of, sort of, maybe pisses me off.
In this work of his, he goes on about what NOT to do. How if it is not done a certain way, or comes from a certain place within you, then you are not a writer and don’t write. Just don’t do it.
This is a piece that makes me angry and makes feel the need to prove this man wrong. And it MAKES me want to write. Because, at the end of his little “schpeel”, it does find some redemption in my minds’ eye.
He speaks that the need to write will “…drive you to madness…”, which is very true.
When it says that unless writing is like “…the sun inside you is burning your gut, don’t do it/when it is truly time and you are truly chosen, it will do it by its self and it will keep on doing it until you die or it dies in you…”
I do not know about that. I do know that there have been moments in my life when people have tried to kill off this part of me. Degraded, belittled, destroyed my work and my nearly manic need to put pen to paper. I watched them mock and ridicule and physically tear from my hands my work. I have seen their hate, felt their anger and been drenched by the sweat of their disdain for me. Those people where not good people in my life.
And sadly, at times, I was one of those people.
I let fear and doubt and the belief that it would never become anything topple my self esteem to ruble.
Then I realize that writing is, for me, the only thing that brings me peace. Joy. Laughter. Hope.
And god above, I have lost all of those things a dozen times over in my life. I have fallen and had to rebuild my life. I have lost faith in my God and my self. And each time I have been in a dark place in my life, it was when I took up my pen again that I found those very things that I needed.
I will write when and how and where and what my very soul gives me to write. Some days I cannot keep up with the cacophony of words that swirl within me. Other days I cannot remember how to spell my own name.
But regardless of which place I am mentally or emotionally or spiritually, I will write! I will keep plucking away at those mental harp strings that influence and flutter those words within my soul.
I will search for words and the right turn of phrase till my last moment upon this sphere.
You see, for me, writing is the only thing that does not feel like a wasted endeavor.
I write when I am at peace or in a rage or when I am stressed or when I am asleep and I snap awake scrambling for a pen and paper to get something out of my head!
Writing is my northern star.
Writing is my salvation.
I will write how I see fit for me, not in the pretentious manner Mr. Bukowski seems to imagine only a true writer should write. Because only a true writer knows what works for them.
Do I plan to make a living at this and be able to be a success? Absofuckinglutly!
Please my lovelies, do not let the negative naysayers bring you down. Do not let the doubt or the stress or the worry eat away at what you are striving to become. What ever it is that drives you! What ever makes you get up and go forward and live the best life you can possibly live.
Remember! This is your life! Your choice! YOUR DREAM!
The haters can hate all they want but all they are doing is making themselves miserable. You are beyond their little voices and littler minds.
I will fight with teeth and nails till I am bloody and my manicure is chipped just to keep doing what I am doing!
I am a writer.
What are you?
I am comically and tragically pissed off about things.
In my defense...I was left unsupervised.
In my defense...I was left unsupervised.
Bizarre thoughts from author Jenny Lawson - Like Mother Teresa, only better.
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