Tuesday, October 29, 2013

5 Minute Blogs: Mama I want to write...

I received my first journal when I was 6 or 7 years old. It was a plastic book with a lock and in it, I'd write the
most ridiculous entries on who did what in school. I thought I was Harriet the Spy without the mystery. It was fun and while the entries never really spoke to who I was (apparently a gossip columnist at that age), it was an outlet. Years later, I had graduated into writing in 5 subject notebooks. The entries were filled with my day to day life and sometimes the countdown on the radio (I'd write little notes in between the songs). Then I had another notebook filled with random list, or random articles I'd write on just anything. I never really thought much of it, it was just something I did out of habit. When I was in 3rd grade I entered a writing contest for Reader's Digest children's edition. I won third place. I still have that ribbon to this day. Then one day my friends and I began an epic urban (re: hood) book where we'd each take turns writing a few pages. It was fun making up stories and for some reason, people loved my entries the most. I'd get asked questions all the time about who and why something happened. It made me feel good. I was around 14. However, in my mind I was still going to be a doctor. I don't know how this dream truly came about, but it was what it was. Writing was a hobby.

Fast forward years later, I was still writing random short stories for my friends. Sometimes I'd write a poem here and there (my ex found one and immediately apologized for the pain he caused me. He stated "I never knew you felt that way".) Again, I didn't take it serious. 

Sometime in the past 3 years or so I became jealous. I'd read other people's writings and swear that I could do the same thing. I had interesting stories to tell, I had a "way with words" that related to the people in it's own right, and dammit, I was just good at it. I could get a story published! It began to *gnaw at me. For some reason I felt being an author was my calling (maybe it is...). I couldn't shake my thoughts of writing, I couldn't shake my "hobby", and even though the words can't flow that well verbally, I know that my written words can move people. People told me they have been moved. I thought it was going to be easy. I was wrong.

Countless times I have tried (and failed) at writing a novel. I never realized the dedication it took to actually finish a book. I didn't know that you couldn't just start writing and hope to end up somewhere. I assumed a story (in novel form) would eventually come together. That never happened to me because I didn't have a plan. I would have ideas: "College Girl gets caught up in the drug life", "Black Sci Fi about the end of the world", "Cheaters!". But ideas mean nothing if you don't have a plan to get there. I realize this. I accept it. I understand now.

Now I have a plan. I recently came up with an idea for a story, just in time for NaNoWriMo. This time I knew how I wanted it to end. I quickly began an outline. Looking at the outline I realized, I can do this. I wrote the end first, because somehow for me it's much easier to get there when I know where I'm going. I registered and said I will finally finish a novel. (This is item #20 on my bucket list).  Today on the train I wrote 2000 words without hesitation. It just flowed (into an awesome sex scene...of course! Shout out to iCloud for making it so easy). I have all this time on the train and I'm not using it for my full potential. I have to DO BETTER. 

Even if it never gets published I just want to know that I can do this...that if I sit down and focus and work hard, I can write. If no one ever reads my words it's okay. But I have to get this out of me somehow. Maybe when I finish one work I will no longer feel this nagging need to get my words out. Maybe this will bring closure...or maybe it will be the start of something new. I just know it needs to be done. 

Mama...I just want to write right now.  (can you believe I'm tearing up at this thought...)

P.S. If you are doing NaNoWriMo, let me know! We can encourage or motivate each other...
P.P.S. I promise I'm not a punk but when it's something I want, I can't help but get emotional 
P.P.P.S. One time in 9th grade, I wrote a sex scene that got intercepted by a substitute teacher who said she was going to tell the principal  I don't know if she did or didn't, but I never got in trouble NOR did I get the story back. I often wonder what I wrote being that I was still a virgin back then. 

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