Tag: journal

About Writing

Writing from experience

Autumn

88639e30400a525d16196791fadb70b5

Err, sort of . . .

Frankly, this quote frightens me with the prospect that there are people out there who are so boring that they’d only be able to write one book about the life they’ve lived. Couldn’t they at least turn it into a trilogy?

When we’re advised to “write from experience,” we aren’t intended to compose a series of personal anecdotes with stand-in characters for all the people we know. It’s more that if you’ve never been in love, then you probably aren’t going to make a convincing romance author.

Likewise, if you know what it feels like to be betrayed, then you can write a beautiful and heart wrenching portrayal of betrayal.

You never really know how you’re going to react to something until it’s actually happening.

Writers can take their secret thoughts and emotions — the deep and sometimes scary things that are never shared out loud — and transpose them onto different situations and characters. Maybe you’ve never been held hostage at gunpoint, but there was a time when you felt terrified and helpless, and that’s all the foundation you need to write that story.

About Me

Inexpressible

Autumn

23aca598730606a1ab50cd0700cb7791

I have problems.

I know, right? A writer with problems? Like that’s never happened before.

I’m the sort that’s always laughing at myself, because learning how to laugh was the only way to survive. So when I come across pictures like this, I usually get a good chuckle.

Yep, that’s me. You have no idea how emotionally messed up I am.

Eight years ago I realized that a certain state of brokenness was utterly essential for writing. You can’t be completely incapacitated, but you also can’t just talk about it with a good friend over a cup of tea to solve a problem — it needs to be beyond what you can ordinarily express.

It turns into creativity.

And you cannot write without creativity.

About Me

Who I Am

Autumn

I spent the entirety of my teen years writing. When all the other kids in my Creative Writing classes were planning out back-up careers “in case writing didn’t work out,” for me there was only one option:

I am a writer.

Through and through.

Spending my formative teenage years focused on only one goal has embedded it deeply into my identity. Sure, as an adult I’ve thought of other options that could keep me busy once my children are old enough to manage themselves (and help out around the house, ha ha), but everything seems gray and lifeless compared to the prospect of weaving characters and worlds to indulge in. How could I exist without those other identities living inside of me? Even if I never find a single reader, I would still write novels.

It’s who I am.

p1000467
Macro tax
About Me

January Blues

Autumn

To be honest, January is always my worst month, and this year hit me harder than I had anticipated. While I didn’t mind the snow and freezing temperatures, my emotional state suddenly plummeted when it rained. I switched into survival mode as old memories came flooding back, threatening to drown me.

The anniversary date has now come and gone, and I can breathe again. I can exist again.

I don’t think of myself as one of those modern trendy authors who writes fan fiction of all my sordid fantasies. I’m old fashioned, and I enjoy exploring the question of what it means to be human — particularly in the face of trauma — and I hope to gain a better understanding of myself.

Life is too precious to bumble through without trying to understand it.

p1000321
Macro tax