*Broken Pens*
I’ve written in several stages over my life.
As a teenager, the wistful, angst-ridden laments of longing, injustice, and the
general gamut of emotions a teen can conjure according to mood and purpose.
Words came so easily then, with no
expectations or boxes to fit in; creativity in its pure form. In my later teens
things started to slow down. I picked up my pen less often as the concerns of approaching
adulthood surfaced and stayed on my radar. I laid down my pen and put it in a drawer of sorts when I was 17.
I’d always been ‘different.’ I’ve always felt
a sense of being outside everything, and this only increased as I got older. It
became painfully clear that I was the square peg trying to put myself into a
round hole just to be accepted.
In all of this, some things are better off
left unsaid, especially regarding issues of family. The memories and situations
are quite painful, even to this day. Some of you close to me have some knowledge
of that period of time, but I don’t think it’s productive to go into epic
details about it.
I carry plenty of scars. So do you. Some of
our scars are bigger than others. The point is that they are scars. Proof of
going through something big enough that it has left its mark on you-life laying you on it's forge; hammering and moulding you. Something was
learned with each one. My scars had a great deal to do with why I stopped writing.
Fast forward a few years. I’d made some
absolutely crazy and wonderful friends I now call my family. Like-minded and equally unique, we stepped out together and forged our
own marks on the world as young adults. As a
result I was encouraged to pick up my pen again, and started writing
music.
I sat before a blank page and tried to pull
words from the place I’d left them. I
started to panic when the words wouldn’t come.
I remember walking into the kitchen and getting a cup of coffee and it
dawned on me-I’m not that person anymore.
So who was I?
I sat back down, closed my eyes and let my
favorite songs play in my head. I wrote
a paragraph about the songs. It felt
strange. The emotion was there, but not the epic tragedy of life. I probably sat there for an hour and ended up
only eking out a one page poem on non congruent nonsense. It was a start.
The next day I challenged myself to write a
paragraph about something in my bathroom. I know, I know, but you have to
admit, some of the best thinking is done in that little room. I had a box of hair dye on the counter and
ended up writing three pages about it. I
know what you are thinking-three pages about hair dye? Yes. I
had discovered my penchant for purple prose.
My sense of rightness returned and I fell in
love with my pens again. I started writing music. I’ve since written several
pieces, and poetry, and finally into the hallowed, chaotic halls of writing
stories. I’ve discovered I really enjoy writing music parodies and they do get
quite silly, but making people laugh is a reward in itself.
Fast forward-yet again-to the present day. (Skipping
over all the events that continued to shape me into the person I am today). I am still filled with self doubt and
occasionally fall in to old people pleasing habits. I am getting better at recognizing when I’m
sliding into a slump, but I don’t catch them all. I still fall into the ‘am I
good enough’ trap and compare my work to those who are more established and
often published authors.
I continue to work at chipping away barriers
that have existed for a long time, many self imposed. I’ve received much encouragement from people
in several artist fields: painters, poets, authors, musicians, and even a few
PhDs working in both the academic and medical fields.
I’ve started several projects and written
some fan fiction. Many people might
laugh at that, but let me tell you, it’s been one of the best learning tools I’ve
found. Writing for peers has given me excellent
feedback, and helped me improve in ways that I will always be grateful for. Many of the ff plots are original story lines,
just borrowing names, maybe merging in a characteristic or two, and some
similar locations.
Only one story I’ve written and posted
remains online and that’s the one I wrote for my oldest daughter.
The rest have been pulled down and
deconstructed back to their original forms.
The most interesting thing for me is that my first completed work is a
children’s book. I went through several surgeries over the course of two years
and my youngest, The Midget, was really concerned and confused. I woke up one morning before one of my
surgeries and the words flowed so fast I almost couldn’t keep up with them, if
that makes any sense.
I wanted to help her understand what was
happening to me. It’s was a success with her and I’ve thought about shopping it
out to a publisher. I’m kind of intimidated though, as the genre of young
children’s books is the hardest to break in to.
I did submit it to a couple of professionals in the mental health
industry and an English professor with her doctorate, and all gave it an
enthusiastic review.
If I decide to pursue publishing it, I will
post my experiences with the process here.
Hemingway I am not, but I am proud to be among the ranks of those who
share the same desires to make the world a better place, even if only on a few pieces
of parchment at a time.
I’m still a square peg in a round hole world, but there is one big difference. I embrace it and consider myself lucky to finally know who I am. It’s no longer a burden, but rather one of my greatest strengths. To be able to live outside of the box is an incredible privilege, and one I don’t take for granted
Who am I?
I am forever 29. (In December I celebrated the 19th anniversary of my 29th birthday. You do the math). I am a writer of words and dreamer of dreams. I make grievous grammar mistakes and freely abuse commas and semicolons. I color outside the lines. I am a woman/child who loves life, is passionate about everything, and makes no sense to others than myself a lot of the time. I adopt random musicians and people from Ohio. I rescue all kinds of critters, and have a penchant for cats.
I encourage you to step outside your box. The view is great from here.
