I have no excuse beyond the fact that life and transition down to Miami has paralyzed me a little. I no longer wake up thinking about writing and I know it is not because I don’t want to, but rather because I have gotten so distracted. I promised myself that I would get my orientations planned for June, and wrap up my freelance work- and then, write away. I revisited the one and a half chapters I have written and enjoyed each page. I must set up a little chair and desk for myself on the balcony and get past chapter two. Okay, I’ll commit to a deadline: June 23! Two chapters by my 35th b-day.
By the way, it all worked out better than I thought!
Busy, busy day. I did most of my writing in my head. On paper, I’m at 5,000 words of totally new material with some fundamentals of my previous notes intertwined. I’m happy. I am thinking about going back to each page; making sure there is rhythm and beat and colour and life to each sentence.
I’m so proud of myself; i’ve written 8 pages and my characters are developing. I notice that when my personal life is in order I’m not as stressed and or depressed and I feel empowered to write. I have a plan for the summer; I got a great job workin a season contract in Miami and I start classes in August. I have friends around me loving me and encouraging me and my father and I are slowly creating a space to enage in conversation. I am very happy and my writing is flowing just right! I feel bad now because I am suppose to be blogging everyday about my writing. I’m cheating a little and will be back on track with my blog. Pencils Up!
Today as I met with my job readiness person; tutored; interviewed and traveled all over Manhattan and Brooklyn, I saw the face of my protagonist. She appeared to me the same way one would see their face in a reflection. She told me her name and I wrote it down. I observed her and read her story on her face. She is the first person I gave a voice to; it was a one page breakthrough, but, it’s a start. Let’s see who else shows up. I’m guessing a neighbor; a female confidant. They both share something…but what?
To add, I came across a note I wrote to myself, giving myself permission to go back to a time when I was 17 or about, writing poems religiously. Filling binders with colorful language. The person I am now needs to reconnect with that writer if this is going to happen and then all of the writers that matured from that point forward. I am too in the present and had to step back. Unfortunately, I cannot create a distant space to write it all down; I have to live in the process and work. I am also on a timeline as grad school is fast approaching.
Let’s just see…
yes, I have writer’s pause. I started something I liked, then, rewrote and reread and now, I’m totally 100% insecure. So, I’ve paused. It hasn’t helped any that my life is in a little hold on the runway, either. My inspiration was in the possibility of being able to write and create a space to do just that and now I have no idea what next week will bring. I’m hoping one day I will look back and read this and realize how silly I was to doubt myself and my opportunities and faith. Today, and lately, I’m just a little disheartened.
I had a little quick brunch this morning with one of my angels who has been so supportive these past 9 days as I am getting my literary journey together. It was in our conversation- or rather- a reflection of our conversation that I realized there was a moment of vulnerabilty that I tend to keep hidden just as much as my having closeting my desires to write escaped a bit. It is a good thing because as I felt undressed, I came face to face with a reality. I have all these stories in my mind, but, I think they have been serving as scapegoats for my telling the true message I have inside the writer in me.
So, now, I want to scratch the themes I’ve been considering to set in place and dig down to the root. What is my message? What is it that I want to purge? I realized I’ve been dancing around metaphors and fictitious possibilities as guises to what I am petrified in doing: telling a story of all stories dancing around in my mind- my story. But, how? I think of writers that have influenced me: Maya Angelous comes to mind. Piri Thoms; Nicholasa Mohr. People who have written their lives onto paper. There are more- but, I’m speaking to the ones who influenced me as I was reading in college. Literature liberated me and I want to do something like that, too, if I can.
I was going back and forth about the two voices in my text that seem to have taken on two different lives but share a theme of discontent. I, just being the vessel that writes it all down, have to decide which one should be a priority and which one should be put on pause. Well, I thought I was going to be at this for days. In less than 24 hrs I received a call from a particular relative who I think is rooted in one of the voices in my text – and not in a good way. A 30 minute conversation just catching up on life brought some peace to the disgruntled voice drowing out the real message of the first book I am trying write- so it’s done. I am clear and can write with more purpose; it was a great blessing in disguise.