Monthly Archives: August 2011

A Writer Without Words


My name is Bonnie and I live inside my head. Everything goes on in my head thoughts, stories, ideas, dreams, memories, everything. I spend so much time in my head in fact that sometimes the lines between reality and fantasy are blurred between my ears. I dont know if this is normal, I dont know if everyone spends so much of their lives thinking, but I do and I always have. Every single day of my life I replay events from my past and my present. Almost everything I say in words is said in a different way within my mind.  I create scenarios in my head that will never happen or that very well could happen. I prepare myself.  I talk to myself, I make myself laugh and I often torture myself internally with the most horrific memories and fears for the future I have. Almost always, I am disapointed with the reality that is my life because I create such an unrealistic view of what should happen, of what I belive WILL happen and when it doesnt my spirit breaks just a little. I create goals and dreams in my heart and with my head I use every resource and excuse possible to convince myself that that can never happen.

One of the biggest sources of torture I put myself through is my complete and udder dream of becoming a writer. I have never loved do something so much ever in my life as I do writing. Besides the click of a lense, the click of keys or smooth lines on paper are the most beautiful acts to me. But with as much time as I have spent creating this dream in my head of one day being a food critic, of one day writing for a newspaper or magazine or the ultimate I could die from the thought of how amazing it would be dream: a photojournalist. National Geographic. Something I have never spoken to another person. I have spent even more time making excuses and talking myself down from such a dream based on the notion that I of course, could never and will never be good enough to do such a thing. The only person standing in my way is myself and I know this. And the complete frustration that I cant tell my stubborn ass to get out of my own way is so overwhelming at times.

Throughout each day I create blog posts in my head. I create plots of a story line, I eat food and pretend I am a critic eating for an article. One liners and entire paragraphs come to mind that I think I should write down and then never do. I tell myself Im going to write here every day just to gain the experience of devoting my life to the written word. There was a time that I used to write every day. A time when it was effortless, a time when I wrote just to write and I never let anoher soul read those words. But I have come to a point in my life that I am so miserable with what I do for a living and believe that becoming a writer is the only thing that could save me from the horrifying monotony that is my life. But like I said, there is always an excuse. Lets review some of these excuses and obstacles I have put in my own way for years and perhaps brainstorm solutions to create a remedy shall we?

-I am not nearly a good enough writer for anyone to ever want to let alone pay to read what I write.

>P art of this is not having a education that any writer should have. I know I have severe technical issues when it comes to writing but I also know that I have the potential to be something great. I can work on the education (as soon as my stubborn ass can get out of my own way in regards to school as well) but how am I ever going to improve my skills and abilities if I dont do the one thing that can strengthen that…WRITE! My goal is to begin writing at LEAST every other day. I know that is just opening the door to meaningless writing but I also know that you have to start somewhere. And so that my friends (or wordpress dashboard as no one reads this shit anyways) is goal numero uno.

-No story I have to tell is one that hasnt been told before. One that hasnt been lived before, one that sparks any interest at all in someone picking up a book and purchasing it based soley on the one or two paragraph summery on the back.

>This is one that I have struggled with quite a bit. I dont disagree with myself. I havent lived some astounding, interesting or otherwise out of the ordinary life to be able to devote an entire book to what it was and is like being me. I once dreamed of writing my own book, but that just sounds like hell to me and the potential rejection you can face after devoting so much of your life to one soul purpose would probably kill me. I have a couple of different solutions to this. The first being the most unhealthy one possible of course: If I am living a boring life, turn it into something of interest  based SOLEY on the fact that I would have the adventure in writing it one day. This has led me down quite a few paths that I am not proud of. And while yes, one day I will write these stories and piece together my life based on expierences alone, I realize that I could kill myself doing so. When I go for something I GO for it. Complete balls to the wall outrageous mistakes that I (once again thinking in my head…can we sense a theme here?) before, during and after I consciously think “this is a bad decision, stop. But I dont stop becuase I am so desperate to live a life that I can look back on when I am old and gray and say God Damnit I had a good time in my youth and I am proud of it!

>Dont discount your expiernces and abilities to write a book based soley on that fact that YOU dont think it is interesting or different. When you are the one living the story I would imagine it would look and feel useless to yourself. Becuase let me tell you, if I lived a life that even I thought of and said hot diggity damn my life is amazing, I would be a hell of a lot happier then I am. And that is the truth.

>And lastly: simply just dont write a book. While I believe that writing a book would be such a huge journy and rewarding adventure whether that be financially or self enlightenment its not at the top of my list. I think when you tell anyone that you are (or want to be) a writer their automatic conclusion is that you write books. But that is simply not the case. There are thousands of things I could do as a writer that has nothing to do with books. And I intend to chose one of those, or hell, even all of them to reach my dream.

-I find it impossible to get an amazing, perfect flowing or moving piece out of my fingertips unless I am so unhappy I find myself checking the strength of piece of rope and testing the sturdiness of my bathrrom shower rod.

>I really have no one to blame for this but myself. Because when I started writing I was probably 12 or 13. I would write every day, but the problem lies in the fact that I based my entire writing ability on being miserable. It was my out, it was my escape, it was the only way I knew how to get out of my head the tormenting thoughts that were ever so free flowing. Writing happy (or as close to it as it is chemically possible for me) is a completely new experience. I have been miserable all of my life and recently I have found contentment. I have found the ability to know that I am on the right track to turn my life into something that I dreamed for it for me and no one else. I dont really know what the solution is to this. If I were miserable every day like I have often been in my life I would have no problem creating something worth reading but if it comes down to  my writing abilities or my healthy heart and mind I have to chose the latter. Naturally I think the only way to being to remedy this problem is to do just what I am going to do and that is write. Every day. No matter what emotion I am feeling just put something on paper. And maybe one day I will be able to convey a feeling of profoundness with a content heart as well as I can with a broken one. And this is what would be a segment into my next point:

-I have a very bad problem with dwelling on events of my past. Of writing the same story over and over and over again because simply: it is what I know. It is what I know, and they were times of intense pain that I can easily work with.

>When I write so many different pieces on just a few topics I even get tired of it. I know this, and I have taken steps to cease the repetition. But I also struggle with this. Those were moments in my life that will always be with me so where do you draw the line between upping yourself from the last piece and just beating a dead horse? I dont know the answer to that but for now I have decided that I need to give it a rest. Reference but dont retell, remember but dont let it consume you. I know that your past doesnt define who you are (especially my past) but I also know that past struggles make you stronger and if I am anything from those experiences it is stronger and that is something I am proud of.

I think it is a combination of my own internal struggles of being in my twenties and finding myself combined with outside voices that have always told me to think realistically, that I cant do something so huge with my life, that all I should be focusing my energy on is living day to day, finding a husband and becoming a mother. And while those are all things I want to accomplish in my life (huge things. Becoming a mother is my dream of dreams and I would give up anything for it when the time is right) they are not the only things I want and I feel like at this point in my life I need to focus my energy on making myself happy. Of focusing completely and holey on my self as this is the only time in my life I will ever have that ability to do so. Not to mention I can almost taste the sweet tang of redemption and success when I can look at those that have done me wrong and say, yes I can do it. I AM smart, I AM capable and I AM independent. And the need to prove those three things would be enough to drive anyone.