Wednesday, June 1, 2011

An attempt to explain myself.

I am a happy girl. 

I spend most of my time joking and laughing with people (I think I'm mostly funny because I lack that censor people have in brain that says "keep that fact to yourself, you dummy.")  But whatever, funny is funny.   

I think people sometimes don't see me as very deep because I am always joking.  They don't realize my brain is a constant movement of color and actions and reactions.  I write in my mind all day, I see characters and photographs in everyone.  I look at beauty and I love describing it and capturing it.  I see more beauty in the UN lovable/UN desirable things than I do in traditional beauty.

But, something most people don't realize is that I feel paralyzed most of the time, like I'm hitting a brick wall.  My talent can only take me so far.  I need help from others (Which is not a bad thing,)


In the midst of creating, breathing life and unfolding stories I am frustrated. Frustrated that I don’t have enough time to do the things I love and frustrated that time stands still in only the moments you want to fast forward. It does...look it up.

When I’m not writing I’m dealing with kids (I’m dealing with them right now because no matter how early I get up to be alone and not cut in on kid time, they smell my awakeness and come to bug me.)


While I was writing my book it never dawned on me that I might not make it. But it is dawning on me now. My book isn’t even done being edited yet and I’m becoming discouraged because I don’t know if I’m good enough, if I am strong enough to see it to the end, if I am able. Do I have the support? I don’t know the answer to any of these besides that my gusto goes in and out all day.
One minutes I’m screaming bring it on to the world. The next I’m waving my white flag and saying I give, I give. Your right, I don’t have what it takes.

But whats the truth? 

The truth is that I love to write. What if I never become Stephanie Myer or J.K. Rowling....Shoot I would settle with Amanda Hocking.

But what if my stories are never read by anyone but my friends and family?

The answer is simple, I spent my life doing what I loved. I didn’t waste it worrying so much about all the crap of the world that I didn’t even try.

I spent my life doing what I love. 


Creepy Query Girl said...

I could have written this post myself- the time constraints, kids, frusteration, fear. I'm there. THere are so many ups and downs in this struggle to be heard but the bottom line is- I love to write- it brings me joy. I need to write because it brings me balance in a world where there's so little I can control. I hear ya!

Lydia K said...

I could have written this post too! You're not alone. We all have those doubts and frustrations. But if the love of writing remains, that's still a powerful thing to hold on to.

D. Heath said...

A very strong post! There are so many demands that it can be difficult to keep up. You can finish it!! Just take it one step at a time :)

Jo Schaffer said...

Anyone who writes and has kids can relate to this. (=
Do what you love and there will always be others who love it too.
Keep it up, girl.