Yesterday I posted my latest dilemma and I am sitting here wondering why this is so important to me. I have not expressed in words why writing frees me.
Why is writing my novel important to me? Why is it important that I write it?
There are things in my life that I love.
I love my husband. I love waking up and seeing my husband next to me. Many people I know have thought of marriage as a scary adventure. Promising themselves to one person for the rest of their lives and making that commitment permanent. I found marrying my husband calming, a peace that I needed so badly. Knowing that he would be with me through everything, through my imperfections, my mistakes, my pain was the most exhilarating feeling in the world. I know that I will stand with him where ever our lives take us. He is mine and I am his. It hasn't been easy. We are two strong, stubborn and different people. We argue, we fight, but at the end of the day I love him and he loves me.
It's like riding a see saw. We are two ends of a board, different sides, different opinions but connected and balanced.
I love my baby. What a thrill she is. What a terror she is. I didn't get the model that sits and plays quietly. I got the model that tears trim off the wall and is proud of herself. She is smart, clever, and at nineteen months she knows exactly what she is doing. She never stops, she laughs more than she cries. I admire her. My baby girl explores, investigates and has the desire to discover everything. The world is new and fresh to her. Watching her learn teaches me. Shows me that things small and simple are fascinating and hold more than first glance will give credit for.
She shows me everyday that there is so much more beneath the surface. So much more to me. I value the time I spend with her and I will not trade it for anything, so don't offer.
I love coffee. I might change my drink every few weeks or months but certain standards stay the same. I love my coffee hot. Not really warm, not just hot enough. I love it hot, hot, hot. I love the first sip. I love the way the heat starts on my tongue, burns down my throat and ends up in my core. Not my stomach or my tummy. But my soul. The right cup off coffee and the first sip will set my world right. If I am exhausted it awakens me inside. If I am sad that first sip gives me the moment to think about my emotions. If I am lost it lets me find myself. It is more than a liquid in a cup. It is a drug just for me. Catered to my needs, designed specifically for my body and soul.
There is a difference between love and passion.
People pass through my drive through everyday and I ask every time. "Are you up to anything exciting today?"
It is rare that the answer is "Yes!" Most of the time I get "Eh, work." Eyes drooping, shoulders sagging as they drive off to their dreaded routine. They have loves in their lives, but no passion.
Nothing that lights the fire within them.
Writing is my fire. My computer is my fuel, my mind is lighter fluid, my fingers my kindling. And when I sit down and let my mind connect to my hands, I ignite the fire and it roars.
I write to create. I write to investigate, to learn, to free myself.
On bad days, the days that I feel trapped and tethered, I write and a whole new world is open to me. One that I influence, one that I command. Giving me wings to fly. I feel the air rushing past me, the sun supplying my energy. Breaking though the barriers that confine me, and snapping the tether keeping me to the ground.
On good days I flow like a river, tumbling and cascading over rocks and boulders. Nothing can stop me. Like water, I meet a dam with force and break through it shooting out on the other side.
I want to write every day. Page after page or word after word. I have story to tell. I think about my story. I think about how to tell it. I think about how my world around my influences my writing and the directions I take. I have such a passion for it I will burst if I cant write it down. If I don't tell it I will regret it for the rest of my life. Will it take me years to completed it? Perhaps. I have no timeline set. I will take exactly as long as I need to complete it.
My passion drives me. I make an effort to constantly search for new writers to learn from, new inspiration to draw from. My story follows me around. Like the little devil on my shoulder whispering in my ear. He's an inappropriate little devil and I love it.
So that's why I do it. That is why I write.
Does that bring me closer to making a decision? Maybe.
I am exploring many emotions that I am uncomfortable with, it distances me from my story. Maybe to reconnect me and continue to explore and investigate I need to write more like me, that would mean taking my age group from Young Adult to Adult. This would also mean I would be writing a fine line. Teetering on my butte. Making sure I don't lose sight of my story, making my characters cliche or drenching my story in overdeveloped emotions.
This is one avenue I have not travelled with my story. Maybe I should at least go down that road and see where it takes me.
Hmmm...interesting...
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