Hello Mixed-Up Filers!
Is it that time already? Really?
Wow, two months sure does seem to fly by at times. It seems like I barely have time to press submit, watch two or three comments come in on my post, answer them, catch up on my TV shows, read a few books, ponder the meaning of life, and then before I turn around and it’s my time to go again.
So keeping all of that in mind, I know recently there’s been a huge write-in campaign for me to go once every seven and a half weeks instead of two months, so I just wanted to let everyone know, that while I appreciate the cries for me to undertake a possible seven and a half week time frame, I just can’t imagine keeping up with that type of grueling schedule.
So until then, I’m once again faced with my usual dilemma, What to write about? I always find it tough, since as it is, I don’t think my posts fall into the category of normal or usual for this or for that matter, any other site. I mean, when I looked back over my last couple of entries, I realized that they’ve been more or less, some form of therapy sessions. Well, that’s when that light-bulb dinged and went off over my head. My writing, besides enjoyment for me, is and always has been, a kind of therapy. For whatever reason, I seem to do my best when I’m down or depressed. Now, I don’t actively seek that by any means. After all, who likes to be depressed? But, when it does happen, I find that the writing pours out of me.
As I stated in my last post, I’m a very private person, and yet somehow when I write, everything personal just comes pouring out. I know writing is personal and solitary anyway, but things like this blog are a weird phenomenon to me. I find myself talking about things that I would never, ever want to say to anyone else in person. But, there is still that feeling of anonymity here, even though I know and know full well, that there might be some who actually read this. True, according to my history, that number is usually reserved for just one or two people, one of whom may or may not be my mother, but still, it feels “safe” to write here.
Whenever I do write for myself, or for a place such as this site, I let everything out. I get more “real” than I am at any other time. For example, earlier tonight, I was forging through my latest WIP, when the emotions hit me. You see, this one is very personal to me. Without going into too much detail, I find it hitting me hard at times. Sometimes, so much so, that it becomes difficult to continue. The reasons for which are silly in my mind, because I’m nothing like the main character. I don’t have anything in my life that resemble that of my character, but there is still something there that I associate with personally, and wow…sometimes, I just need to stop and take a break, while at other times, I push myself on and write through the emotions. That is when my best writing seems to occur. (Yes, that is an opinion! J ).
I do notice, that when I stay away from writing too long, it calls me back. I feel the need and the urge. It is like a drug in that way. I need it. I need it for my rehab. For my sense of well-being. For my mental-health. I need it to fight the demons I have going on inside and to heal my psyche. In writing, I get to control the turmoil…at times. Because, as every writer knows, sometimes, those pesky creations seem to have a life and mind of their own. But, I am ultimately their master.
As I put this down on paper, (Screen) I see that I actually smiling, since I realize that I’m making myself out to be far more tortured and perhaps psychotic, than I wanted, but remember, demons do come in different shapes and forms, so please nobody stage an intervention for me. Yet. Really, I’m fine. Well, as fine as anybody who chooses to undertake writing as their passion can be. But, I’m fine. As long as I continue my therapy.
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