“The impulse to write things down is a peculiarly compulsive one, inexplicable to those who do not share it, useful only accidentally, only secondarily, in the way that any compulsion tries to justify itself.” Joan Didion
Let me open with a disclaimer stating that I am not a fan of Joan Didion, I just read this today and loved it. I think this segues nicely from yesterdays blahblahblog about quotations. It’s not earthshaking, it doesn’t make me seem like superman, and it won’t change your life; it simply allows me to enjoy the words and the feelings they engender. Aaaawww, yeah.
I’ve had wierd conversations about this with people lately, like-minded and differing both. I think each person has some form of artistry in their interaction with the world. Some paint, some sculpt, some write music, some make love, and some make anger and hostility into an artform. Then there are the last of us; the sad and depleted remnants who patch together our argueable masterpieces from the written word. Compulsory, desperate, and a last resort to meltdown; I love the way that these digitized scribblings can take me away to another time and place. We can lose ourselves in another persons problems, be they real or imagined. We can bulid and explore new worlds and experiences beyond our 4 walls and let go of things for a while.
Television and Movies are fun, but they don’t leave much to the imagination. If you want to be entertained, these are great outlets. If you want to entertain yourself, pick up a book or get online and go crazy. I think that’s half the fun of reading is allowing yourself to really delve into a range of emotions you don’t normally indulge. Go Crazy, have MPD, listen to the voices, kill someone, love someone, hate your parents, and cheer for the bad guys.
Until you have some of this in your system I don’t think you can be an effective writer. It’s all about motivation. Soooo many people write and write and write and churn out forests of paper worth nothing. Pages filled with shallow sadness and petulant anger devoid of substance. To those precious few of you who have fueled my anger, who have cut me and watched me bleed, and who have filled those far-too-few days with love and life beyond imagining, I tip my hat and say thank you from every part of me possible of expressing emotion. Thank you for your part in my becoming the strong, unbalanced, and depraved individual I am. Thanks to those of you who closed the doors. A big thanks to those who opened windows; and gratitude beyond words to you who forced open mine and climbed inside. I like what I’ve written; I love that I can go back and read my journals and this bizarre repository of thoughts and tell myself a story that is vibrant and alive with each retelling, even though I was there at it’s origination.
So, this didn’t start out this way but it appears to be ending as a thank you letter. Gracci to those that were there and cheers to those who are going to build the next round of stories with me. Some of you I wish were never born, some of you I wish had never left, but in my own way I value each and every one of you.
This reminds me of something, though I can’t remember what. But you are absolutely right. It takes way more than just puting pen to paper to make a good story. Although, at least some basic understanding of format and plot flow helps. Some of the best stories tend to go unnoticed because they way they are written doesn’t allow the reader to really get into the story.
I wish I had some type of literary training. I just didn’t agree with my creative writing teachers in high school and college, so i took every other course under the sun. My writing suffers because of it. lack of finesse. However I make up for it with raw adjective power! With enough thrust, even a brick can fly!
I used to suffer from that wonderful compulsion but am recovered to the best of my knowlegde. There was a time a year ago when I felt I was drowning in myself and I couldn’t stop the words, the verse, from prancing through my mind. They were of the kind that even if I was at work, I would find a moment to quickly jot them down because I thought they expressed my turbulent feelings so well.
The people who write without soul aren’t writers, they’re just boring people with nothing worthwhile to say but a need to say something. The soul, the passion, the emotion is the important part. Oh well.
And I like that last line up there! Thanks for making me smile