Last year at this time I was battling the incessant urge to write. So many fears blocked my path that it was like a war torn city landscape littered with broken glass, metal debris and unknown landmines.
I finally decided after a long, warm bath (the miracle of water) that it was time to start living the life I always dreamed. I embraced that writer’s path in May. I remember it quite specifically and I haven’t looked back. I often toyed with the writer’s life since I was eleven years old, but I never fully embraced it or believed in my innate talent. Too many fears blocked my path like the aforementioned rubble. Well, I finally said fuck it.
Since then I have written a novella, started this blog, am half way through my second novella and I have a few other writing projects I am planning on completing by the end of the year. One, has to be completed by this Thursday. I have a would be movie producer bugging me about writing a B-movie horror script and I plan on having my novella trilogy completed by the end of the year. I won’t go back to my previous life.
Granted, I have had less than a dozen people buy my first novella. And I have less than thirty followers on this blog. But, I have met some amazing people on twitter and through my short two day movie set adventure. It doesn’t matter if I ever become ridiculously famous like E.L. James, J.K. Rowling, or Stephanie Meyer. I am happy affecting my small circle and writing what I love.
The project that is due this Thursday is a series of letters to friends of mine who are going on my birthday trip with me to a picturesque, costal Michigan city this weekend. My very personal letters will be their gifts from me for attending such an important milestone in my life. I haven’t got a whole lot of money, but I do have my talent for self-expression and my fearlessness in expressing my more intimate emotions.
I’ve done that before. I’ve given a gift of a poem to a friend that I stayed with in Pittsburgh last summer. Her gift in return was a beautiful painting rendered from a picture of us taken in the city: a gift of talent for a gift of talent. It is a beautiful gesture and one that I couldn’t have done until I have finally embraced that life I always dreamed for myself, a writer’s life. Because what do writers do? They write. That simple. Sometimes I write brilliantly, sometimes pathetically, but I still write. I try to follow the simple rule of Ray Bradbury. Never stop writing. I don’t plan to, now that I have begun walking the path, and the rubble isn’t nearly as bad as I thought it was.
So, have you embraced the life you’ve always dreamed for yourself?