Why One Writes

"There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you."

~Maya Angelou

I profess that the above statement is true.

It is agony.

An agony I'm working through.

 I found this quote while reading through other inspiration quotes on Buzzfeed about writing, and why we write, or just simply finding motivation to write.  I've got stories inside me.  Characters.  Worlds.  Ideas.  Some of them I wonder if I'm too late in telling, and that worries me.  But it's cluttered.  My head and heart are cluttered, and after all this time I'm working through getting some of what is in my head out on paper.

It's a frightening process that works against my insecurities.  Not reading until the 3rd grade and so forth, those burdens that still haunt, even though I've overcome those weaknesses years ago.  But for me the real trial is turning what I see visually and feel emotionally into words.

It wasn't until I was a senior in High School that I learned people thought in words.  I would have small conversations in my head, but really everything I experienced in my mind was jumping from one image to the next, living through one scene to the next.

It was late at night and my friends and I were lying on the ground starring up at the stairs, inventing constellations.  And as we gazed into the heavens we began talking about thought processes.  Every single one of my friends thought in words.  They didn't see pictures!  I was amazed and baffled.  I though everyone sees things happening in their mind like a movie.  One day, after that, I asked one of my friends who was there that night how she writes stories.  Does she really not see the characters moving about?  And she told me that when she writes she hears the words in her head, but that was it.  No pictures.  No movements.  No buildings or scenery.

And all I could think was how boring that must be.

But the problem I'm having is translating what I hear, see, feel, and experience into words.  And most of the time I'm not there, simply an observer watching, laughing, crying.  I just got to find the words.

It's a process.

I'm learning.

This nice thing about writing is that there isn't an average age or expiration date.

And so many writers who have found success did so later in life.

Imagination is for the young and old alike.

I found the below image on Facebook and had a good laugh over it.

And don't worry, I'm still working on my music as well. ;0)

Wisdom in Our Subconscious: Slamming unopened Doors

This last week I've been organizing my ideas.  Years of jotted down one liners, lyrics, and inspiration have been stuffed into my file cabinet, only to end up forgotten.  It's been quite a task, much larger then I first anticipated.

In the midst of these written down ramblings I stumbled upon a piece of wisdom.  It was a story idea I once had, and in this scene one character is giving relationship advice to another.  I wish I could remember the full context.

"Don't fill yourself with self doubt.  Don't tell yourself you're not good enough or worthy enough.  And don't tell yourself that he will never like you or care for you.  You don't know, and such things are unpredictable.  You may fill your head with an ideal of him, and who he can be with you.  And in the end it may turn out to be an empty ideal.  But you need to take that step forward.  Don't slam the door before you've had a chance to open it."

That's what struck me: Don't slam the door before you've had a chance to open it.

How true is that?

How often do we slam doors before we've even opened or walked up to it?  How often do we look at a door and then walk away? Symbolically of course.

I don't know where my subconscious found this wisdom,
but it's my deep self speaking to me.

I need to stop slamming doors.

Overcoming Insecurities

 (My collection of antique books)

Someone told me once to be careful in my actions towards others; that it's best to assume that everyone we meet is fighting a harder battle.  We all have something we're hiding.

For me it's my insecurities towards reading and writing, and it's founded on some experiences I had in the 3rd grade.  I couldn't read, at all, and was in danger of permanently falling in between the cracks.  My Mom sought help, and found out the school had a reading program for 1st graders, but felt 3rd grade was beyond help.  So they weren't going to help me.

My Mom's pretty special.  She's gutsy and doesn't take no for an answer.  A full-blooded Gryffindor.  She spent many, many hours asking questions and getting help, and with the help of my teacher a program was developed, and during reading/writing time I would go with a handful of other students to learn phonics and read Curious George.  I was told it would take many, many years to catch up to grade level, but I worked really hard and was testing at grade level by the middle of my 4th grade year.  Regardless, I still felt stupid.  I have clear memories in the 6th grade doing social study worksheets and not finding the answers.  My friends would point to the paragraph where the answer was found, and still, reading the section repeatedly, the answer remained buried.

By my Freshman year of High School I received one of only two English awards in my class of 600+.  By my Sophomore year I was placed in honors English.  And in my Junior year I took AP Literature.  Still I felt like I didn't know anything.  I decided to attend Porterville College and took the placement test, and out of 50+ testers I was one of three that was allowed to go right into English 101.  You would think that would boost my confidence, right?  I transferred to the College of the Sequoias in Visalia CA, got a 4.0 that semester, transferred to Utah Valley State College and had a 3.98, making the deans list.  Transferred to BYU and got an academic scholarship.   You would think I would be getting a clue, but doubts still overwhelmed, regardless.  Those 3rd grade memories not giving me any ease.

It finally clicked one day, and it sadly happened the semester before I graduated.  I was in Music Literature 304, and we were about to get our blue books back after having taken our first essay tests.  Before that happened our teacher decided to lecture us, telling us he gave very few A's, and that in all his years of teaching he's never had to tell a group of upper division University students how to write a proper essay.  He went through all the points on what he expected, and each point he mentioned I did; I was freaking out.  Then I got my blue book back, and at the top of both essays was an A.  I went home that night dumbfounded and had a good cry.  Why did I doubt?  Why did I allow myself to feel insecure?  Why did I waste all that time with worry!?  Why?

(This was getting passed around on Facebook)

I worry about kids.  I worry that there are many who are falling in between the cracks and are getting lost.  Who are not learning to read, because someone, somewhere, felt they were a lost cause, unable to see that hidden glimmer of potential.  Of greatness.  How many times are we on the verge of something great, but give up when it's within reach, because we've stopped ourselves?  Some voice from the past coming to haunt?  Some bully?  I had an eighth grade teacher tell me once, in private after school, that I was worthless, wasn't going to amount to anything, would never get into a University, and would never earn a scholarship.  I proved her wrong, but that voice could have eaten me whole if I let it.

We're all special.  We all have worth.  We all have something great to give.  And there is no comparing, because we are all unique and individual, with unique talents (not all talents are showy: love, kindness, patients, understanding are talents as well).  I'm glad Leonardo da Vinci isn't Mozart; that Michelangelo isn't Einstein.  No one would want them to be any different.  

And I'm thankful to have people in my life I love.

Sarah  

October, the Lull before the Storm

(Nanowrimo.org)

Happy October!  I can't believe there are only 3 months left in the year.  Where has the time gone?  The leaves are changing, which I haven't had a chance to see--I need to go into the mountains and take some pictures--and Halloween costumes, decorations, and candy are on full display in all stores.

But there's something else that's fantastic about October.  It's the month before November!  And what's so great about that?  November is National Novel Writing Month!  For one month you lock yourself away and devote yourself to the insane task of writing a 50,000 word novel.  And October is the month you get to prepare for said task.

Of course, you can't start writing the actual novel (dialogue and prose), but you can outline, plan, and create detailed character profiles.

Nanowrimo (which is National Novel Writing Month broken down) started in 1999, and I first attempted my first nano novel in 2003, failing, then again in 2004 and 2005, failing again.  But last year, 2011, I decided to give nano another go, this time finishing a very raw, rough draft.  But I finished!

What do you win?  A printable certificate and bragging rights, naturally.  All you have to do is complete the task to win.

Anyway, I'm going to do it again this year, only I'm taking a different route.  On a couple previous posts I've mentioned a Graphic Novel I'm working on with my brothers.  I've worked quite a bit on it, but I thought it would be cool if each chapter is a mini short-story where I continue to flesh out the plot and allow the craziness of speed writing to bring me so many great ideas.  When you sit and write for the sake and love of writing, it's amazing what your imagination will throw out at you.  Unexpected.  Characters you never thought up will appear before you, ready for action.  And plot ideas and twists will write themselves.  Of course, it is all rough . . . so December is nation novel revision month :0)

Besides working on the graphic novel this month, I've got a couple books on writing I'm going to read, and a goal of reading a short-story a day.  (I have issues of "Realms of Fantasy," which has now gone out of business, and "The Magazine of Science-Fiction and Fantasy," which is still going strong, laying around with 100's of stories I still need to read.)  This months is going to be fun.   

Sarah