SAVE ME
I took up writing so long ago because I loved stringing words together. I read every book in sight and, as so many writers tell us, thought I could write a better one. The mere act of creating my own stories gave me a feeling of power. It also made me feel complete; I have never lost that feeling when I write.
I have continued to write since that age of ten. Marriage, a career, children, and all that was required of a woman born in my era, didn't allow me permission to pursue that love for words. Do you think that stopped me from being a closet writer? Of course not. Do you think today I would shove my desires, my wishes, my longings for my bliss, as Joseph Campbell called it, and not follow it? Heck no! Don't tell me not to write! And whether or not I publish or give away my work, I am in for the long haul.
I never thought I wrote to save myself until recently. I've been looking back on my life, and how writing has influenced it. That's when I discovered how important those words I put on paper or screen have been all along. Writing has kept me sane, pulled me out of desperation, given me an outlet for anger, frustration, pain and heartache. When I have been about to give up--on more things than I like to admit--writing has given me a road to follow, a way to discover what makes me passionate about writing.
It's not something I took up--like tennis or cooking (or dieting from the cooking). I can't just give it up when I grow tierd of it, or toss aside like a fad I'm following. There is a hunger inside me that is only filled by this craft, and I am firmly rooted in what it adds to my life.
Hemingway once spoke of the artists from America who went to Paris or Florence to study and work. They would give themselves two years; if they weren't successful, then they went back to America, back to college, or to join the family business. It's not enough said Hemingway. "You have to be willing to give it as long as it takes."
Successs is defined by each of us in our own way. I feel I am a succcess because I've never given up on my love for writing.
I have continued to write since that age of ten. Marriage, a career, children, and all that was required of a woman born in my era, didn't allow me permission to pursue that love for words. Do you think that stopped me from being a closet writer? Of course not. Do you think today I would shove my desires, my wishes, my longings for my bliss, as Joseph Campbell called it, and not follow it? Heck no! Don't tell me not to write! And whether or not I publish or give away my work, I am in for the long haul.
I never thought I wrote to save myself until recently. I've been looking back on my life, and how writing has influenced it. That's when I discovered how important those words I put on paper or screen have been all along. Writing has kept me sane, pulled me out of desperation, given me an outlet for anger, frustration, pain and heartache. When I have been about to give up--on more things than I like to admit--writing has given me a road to follow, a way to discover what makes me passionate about writing.
It's not something I took up--like tennis or cooking (or dieting from the cooking). I can't just give it up when I grow tierd of it, or toss aside like a fad I'm following. There is a hunger inside me that is only filled by this craft, and I am firmly rooted in what it adds to my life.
Hemingway once spoke of the artists from America who went to Paris or Florence to study and work. They would give themselves two years; if they weren't successful, then they went back to America, back to college, or to join the family business. It's not enough said Hemingway. "You have to be willing to give it as long as it takes."
Successs is defined by each of us in our own way. I feel I am a succcess because I've never given up on my love for writing.
Labels: bliss, complete, Hemingway, Southern writer
posted by Barb | 9:14 PM
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