I am not a night-poster by nature. I generally like to have my posts up no later than 10:00 in the morning, but something came over me tonight that just couldn’t wait to be written. I really wanted to share this with you before tomorrow morning (or Monday morning, since I’m not generally a Saturday-poster, either).
I’ve been debating my writing lately. No, I am not going to make like Philip Roth and give up on the venture. I haven’t even bloody started yet (sorry, I’ve been reading Harry Potter.) I’ve just been having a lot of feelings lately. I did a really stupid thing the other week, and forgot to look at my schedule before leaving work to see what time I came in for the following Tuesday, as we were closed “in observance of Veteran’s Day” on Monday. Not knowing what time I was supposed to be in and not wanting to be late should it happen I was on the schedule to open Tuesday morning, I went in at 8:00. Naturally, I was on the schedule for 10:00. At first, I was woebegone, not knowing what to do with the next two hours of my life before work. Then it hit me as I was driving that what I should do is go to Starbucks, get a coffee, regroup, and outline my book. I didn’t really like this idea, being the slacker that I am, but I went with it and found myself making a circle and heading back in the direction of the coffee shop.
After I got my coffee and settled into a wobbly wooden table, I pulled out my iPad and began to think. I knew everything I wanted to happen, it was just getting it out of my head and into some kind of order that made some kind of chronological sense. As I began typing and sorting out my ideas and seeing scenes roll through my head, I started figuring things out. I answered plot questions, created new plot questions (but mostly answered), and learned things about my characters and their situations that I wouldn’t have realized before outlining. I was thrilled with this surge of energy. I felt like I’d been on some mini-epic journey and the exhilaration of it was almost too much to deal with at a small table surrounded by people with technology stuck up their noses. I just looked around and thought, “Wow. That was amazing!” I felt for sure that I would start to feel this pull to write the story immediately, and while those feelings did kick at the surface of my desires, its cup didn’t runneth over. So I was left wondering why. Why didn’t I feel that undeniable, irrefutable longing to write?
Somewhere in time, I had lost the feeling of writing as a need. I’d somehow morphed it into an obligation. Now, I am not one to hold grudges, but I resent the feeling of obligation. Yes, sometimes it works for good, but a lot of times it works for bad. In trying to figure out how to discipline myself in my writing, what I’d done instead was made it daunting to even think about. I focused so much on process, production, and work that I forgot why the story had been important to me in the first place and why I even wanted to write it. I took a few days to mull it over, to not think about it, to mull it over some more. What ended up giving me that longing back was this:
Empathy.
My story is about a girl desperately trying to have a voice in a world that doesn’t want to hear it. I know what that feels like, and maybe without realizing this was the realization I’d come to, I think that’s why it’s been damn near impossible for me to give up on this story, on these characters, on myself. I struggle every day to figure out why my voice matters. Why is anything that comes out of my mouth important in the least? A lot of things I say, even though people may listen, seem unworthy of attention. Sometimes they receive no attention. Sometimes I say really intriguing, thought-provoking things that get ignored. Sometimes I say really stupid things that people insist on reminding me of every possible chance they get. But then there are times that I say something and it’s like it came from somewhere else, and that one person hears me who knows exactly what I’m talking about and their acknowledgement and understanding and voice make the world brighter.
That is what my character feels, and that is why I need to write.
