An Odd Disposition…
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I cannot stand bullying; it sours the writing experience for me – every single damn time.
And lately, there have been many intrusions – thoughts, ideas, feelings, issues – whether by necessity, by design, or by some unknown need, that deign to trample over my works in progress, and they insist on making their way onto the page.
They are persistent, they are brutal, they are unrelenting, and they are demanding. Some of them are not very pretty. And they will not stop running interference, simply because I have willed them to do so. They are getting in the way of other stories.
And thus begins the newest struggle.
That is where I find myself stalling, and feel that I am being stifled in my writing. I have a lot to say, so it makes no sense to me. I have been writing in notebooks, but it is somewhat disorganized, which indicates a lack of proper focus. I’ve not been outlining either, which is a must for someone like me. Ya think?
Anyhow, trying to order everything is resulting in my getting very few works completed here. And it bothers me – because that is the reason I decided to keep this blog open to begin with – to write, to share, and to learn.
The reason I am speaking of this is because I’m 20k+ words into a story that took hold of me and, it just would not let me go – not until I committed it to words. A story that, by its very core, by its very virtue, left me scratching my head and asking – wow, where in hell did this monstrosity come from? Yeah, I know.
Every time I place my hands on the keyboard, I find myself asking – why do I keep typing this crap, nobody is going to care about this, it’s too disturbing, it’s complicated, what is my motive here, what is truly driving this story, what is this character really trying to say, where is this going?.. and what is the point?… ~eye roll~
Yeah, it’s one of ‘those’ stories – one that spilled from me with very little forethought and even less effort – until I hit a wall, and then I understood. It had become personal. It is a story that may never see the light of day, but it is one that I suppose needed telling.
Maybe that is all part of the process of ‘finding your voice.’ Sounds reasonable to me.
I admire those of you who write with skill, enthusiasm, passion, determination, integrity, insight, devotion, honesty, focus, clarity and, with such impact that I cannot forget you or your unforgettable words. I have likely grown quite fond of you through those very same words. You have allowed me to see the world through different eyes – your eyes – and for that I am grateful to you. I realize that I took you, the writer, for granted. I have a much greater respect for you, your love for your work, and for your craft – through my personal efforts, and, sometimes, even more, through my miserable failures.
I wish that words would flow from me, but they do not. My head often gets in the way of any meaningful progress. And worse, I haven’t done any serious writing for a long time. While I was away, I didn’t write – didn’t want to. I couldn‘t. The headspace I occupied at the time was definitely not fertile ground for constructive creativity.
I am experiencing a love/hate relationship with the processes that writing incurs, and yet, feel myself slowly falling in love with it all over again. That’s a good thing (if I want to continue).
What I realize is that every story written that has ever left a seed deeply embedded in me was those tales that were filled with everything that makes us who we are – and where the subtext held value, substance, and deep meaning – without ever being directly addressed.
That is true talent, and a skill I‘d like to acquire.
Those are the stories that leave an indelible impression upon me long after the story has came to a close. And that touchstone is what informs how I want to communicate with and through the written word – as difficult as that may be for me at times.
Then again, I don’t get paid to write, I do this as a form of therapy and self-examination. And if I choose to keep plogging along, I really must get better at it. ~soft smile~
If I am ever to truly learn the craft, I will have to cast aside the doubt, the fear, and those assorted obstacles that stifle me – such as intellectual limitations, emotional blocks, and, of course, my limited vocabulary – because, ultimately, it crosses into inferior territories that can rapidly quash confidence. Besides, those things can always be improved upon – well, almost always. I suppose I will just need to learn to better work through myself, so that I may help my characters find their way through some very murky waters, and….
Perhaps, somewhere along that path of discovery, I too, may well uncover the possibility for personal catharsis.
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