I'm pretty disappointed that I haven't been able to keep up with this as much as I'd like to. I feel like I ran out of material pretty quickly, mostly because I strayed too far away from my intended purpose. But, it's also because I've started writing again. Seriously this time, with an intended purpose. I remember being in third grade and constantly writing something. I always got the best grades on short story assignments; I wrote a story involving the characters in my dollhouse (and showed it to the school principal) and I even remember writing a song for every holiday! Late in middle school (eighth grade) I started trying my hand at poetry. I got inspired during English class, when we listened to a story about a homeless girl and it resulted in my first official poem. After that, it was songs I tried to write for the band I was in that I was convinced would be famous. Then, in high school, I started taking myself more seriously. I went through a tough time my freshman year, for various reasons and poetry was my outlet. I wrote one at least once a week, sometimes every day and it helped me through a lot. And during that year, several people I know were diagnosed with cancer, so I wrote a book about a fifteen-year-old girl who died from cancer. It was my therapy and it always helped. Because of this, I have volumes of poetry that I've never done anything with. Most of it is pretty bad, but the most recent stuff is pretty good. However; once I started dating my husband, my writing virtually stopped. It was hard for me to write when I was in a good place in my life. I was happy for once, things were good, so the writing stopped. There's a few scattered throughout the last few years, when Ryan and I hit a rough patch or when my college roommates pissed me off and even some for my parents and my in-laws.
I started to miss writing and I found that I really had a lot to say. At the encouragment of a few friends, I started this blog and it got me motivated again (thank you to those that convinced me this was a good idea). Since then, I've started writing a novel. I won't go into details, as I don't want to give it away, but there's a lot of myself in it. It started out as one thing in my head and has turned into something completely different; in the best way possible. There's a lot of details that are semi-autobiographical and the feelings and the relationships are real. I started it with the intention that I was going to get it published, but as time has gone on and I've put more of myself into it, I'm starting to feel like it's not good enough again. It's what led me to stop taking myself seriously before. I never tried to master my poetry, as I didn't think it was good enough to become anything. I never tried to publish any, or anything I've ever written, to be honest. I've been told by many people that I'm a talented writer and I appreciate the kind words and the encouragement. However; it always comes from someone who isn't a writer themselves. It would be like me telling an amateur painter that they're good. It's better than they can do, so naturally they think it's good. I always wondered if these compliments meant that I really was good, or if I was just better than the person saying it. And at twenty-six years old, it's hard to suddenly start taking myself seriously. I keep thinking back to all the things I should have done in high school and college. I should have been on the school newspaper, in the writing club, etc. I should have been taking it seriously before now.
But, it feels good to be writing again. It feels good to be working through emotions that are still pretty deep, but at the same time right on the surface. I would still love nothing more than to have my work published and be a professional author, but I also feel like it's adding too much pressure. I'm holding myself to a higher standard than I would if I was writing simply for pleasure or for therapeutic reasons. But, the encouragment has been amazing. My Facebook friends (from far and wide) have been incredibly supportive and incredibly excited. My husband has given me more silence and more space to focus on my novel and everyone keeps telling me they can't wait to read it. I'm just not sure if I'm ready to show it to people. For so long I've written for myself. Since high school, my writing has always been for me; as my way of dealing with things. And they say that a writer always reveals more about themselves than they intend to. I believe this to be true. So, while I have no secrets, there are many things in this book that I'm not entirely sure I'm ready to show people. There are certain scenes that actually happened in my life and are painful to see on paper. There are relationships with people close to me that got written in to the story and there are characters that are completely made up to meet my ideal. It's scary to think that so much of myself will be out there and I'm never sure if people will make the connections between themselves and the characters in my book. But, I look back at my life and think of all the professions I thought I'd do. I wanted to be a teacher, then a writer, then a performer, then an editor and then finally, a writer again. It seems, no matter what I choose, in one way or another, I intend to touch a mass audience and I intend to inspire people. Let's face it. We all know I like to talk and argue and debate. And we all know I like to do it publicly. But, I'm not sure I'm ready for my work to be turned down. I'm not sure I'm ready for such a hugh rejection. Because, it's not just my work that would be getting rejected at this point, it's my feelings and my thoughts and the very things that have made me who I am. But, there is still that part of me that wants to touch people and inspire people. There's still that part of me that wants to the world to know my name.
