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By the time I reached junior high school, I knew I was a writer. I wrote my way through my life, not caring if I ever published what I wrote. It was only important to me that I kept writing. Writing allowed me time to myself, precious time to sort thoughts and feelings, to explore imagination, and to think as rapidly as I chose, not having to slow my communication to another person's capacity to understand. Writing allowed me to put my thoughts into the world and allowed the reader to consider those thoughts at their leisure without pressure. I much preferred writing to talking. I considered early on that I might have to get published in order to be heard. Although I had thoughts I longed to share with others, I had no desire to be “known”. Popularity, like celebrity, allows no room for privacy, and without privacy, respect falters.
When I was in my 50's I saw that someone else wrote one of the books I was going to write. At first, I felt sad. My ego had to take time to grieve. I got past that, read her book, appreciated the way she put it all together, and recommended it to anyone who would listen. In time, as I continued to mature, I realized if I didn't write “my” books, someone else would. Life lessons are meant to be shared. The woman who wrote that book had credentials to back her up and was well enough connected in the world to gain a vast audience. That the concepts she wrote about were made accessible to many people was far more important than my gaining publication.
It was also in my 50's that I became active on the Internet. I entered the land of blogging and experienced the joy of writing and having others read what I wrote. I didn't feel any need to be paid for my efforts. As far as I was concerned, I was published.
And now? Now I am in my 70's. I spent a few years on a spoken word circuit and became known in my area. I lead writer's workshops. When I reached 70, I began drawing and painting. My interests have put me in touch with other artists and writers who are now nudging me strongly to publish! I have the time. I have professional people willing to back my efforts. I even have a nest egg set aside, so I can self-publish if I choose to do so. I'm running out of excuses.
And again, you sound like me. I have always wanted to write and used to narrate my life in my head as a child as if I were writing a book. I was so much in love with reading that I wanted a deeper part of it. I spent a while sending stuff out to publishers and a few of my shorter pieces were published, but only non-fiction which disappointed me somewhat. Now, I just write my journals because I want to write what I want to write, and not what someone else wants me to write if that makes any sense.
ReplyDeleteI smile because I still think of events in my life as book chapters or newspaper head lines. That tells me that my inner child is still alive and well and interested in sharing with others. Do you keep a blog? Through the years I have created many! It's fun to hit PUBLISH and see my thoughts laid out in a format on the screen before me.
DeleteYes - I do have a blog, though I use it seldom these days. I must get back to it because I did enjoy it so much and it did give me a platform to say what I wanted to say without interruption, and the readers could also read at their own pace and without interruption - as much or as little as they wanted, and then quietly leave! My first blog was very successful (it was the heyday of blogging) and was called The Depp Effect. My current blog is Sparking Synapse. It's rather neglected but you may have given me the push I needed to pick it up again.
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