During
past few months, I have received many questions as to how I have gone from an unknown writer to overcoming society’s adversarial thoughts on what writing should be and even become a well known writer. So today, I was inspired to write on this. Let me present a gist of my story. And like all stories, there’s always more depth.When it comes to being judged by society’s belief of what good writing is, I thoroughly understand pressure--been through that. For years I was a closet writer because feedback I received from writing instructors (from various levels) was, "your writing is...is...is different and I'm not really qualified to comment." I took this to mean, "I was a lousy writer." So daily I quietly wrote, read them and agreed, and tossed them into a growing set of boxes.
Years and 72 boxes later, my insides were screaming. The screaming displayed itself in anger in everything I did and with everyone I touched. After my father died, I was fed up with life, society, and all "shoulds" in my life. I knew I was angry at something but had no idea what it was at that time. With a full level of frustration and disgust, I decided to give up everything, take off a year, and travel to every writing conference, study anywhere I could, with anyone I could, and "really" learn to write. I had no idea what I was looking for at that time. Now I realize that I was looking for my personal voice and my writing voice.
After traveling, I returned home to Virginia not feeling that much better about my writing than when I started. I did notice that my skin was a little tougher but I was still angry, still embarrassed about my call to write. And as far as my skill level is, I didn't feel there was much improvement. The feedback I was receiving was similar to what I received before. One teacher at a workshop at Puget Sound Writing Conference, Washington State, told me, "If I kept working at it maybe (with a big voice emphasis at maybe) some day in 10 years or so, I will be good enough to release my writing."
Occasionally a light appeared in my tunnel. One time was when I was attending International Writer’s Guild (IWG) yearly retreat in Syracuse, New York. There were hundreds of women writers, all supportive, all different in so many ways. The positive energy was empowering. I took away from this that there wasn't any exact science to writing. Learning to trust my own womanhood at 52 was a completely new eye-opening experience for me. There was a shift in my writing voice.
A few weeks after my year, I woke up crying. Not a gentle sob but a wailing one. I was pissed. I was angry -- at world, at myself, at lamp shade, it didn't matter. I kicked shoes, took walks, and wrote pages in my journal trying to understand what was happening. There was a rage, an internal fight between their feedback and suggestions and with my internal dialogue. Later I realized writer inside me was fighting to get out.
Afterwards, my pissed-off emotions led to, "screw everyone." I apologize for language ladies and gents but I'm sharing my truth. I decided to just put it out there and let it land where it may, grammar mistakes, imperfections, whatever emerged. Let commas be too many or too few.
The first time I had to let go, it took me a week of internal dialoguing and more edits than I'm willing to admit to, in order to let go. (Actually my first experience with over editing.) My emotions changed by hour. My family ran for hills and didn't know what to do with me. I didn't even know what to do with me.
The first time an English specialist sent me his suggestion that I might want to improve on my grammar first, mind you, they never were specific on where or even what they were reading, I would cry again. This would cause me to stop writing for remainder of day. The next day, I was back to a "what he__" again (thank goodness).
Next, I wanted to tackle adding discipline to my writing. Boy 'o boy, that was easy to say yet hard to implement. I soon learned that I preferred cleaning refrigerator, even visit dentist rather than sitting down at a specific time to write. Since then and over time, I learned how this same avoidance rippled its way into other places in my life.
At no given time did I ever suffer from writer's block. I always felt comfortable writing on almost anything (a blessing and a curse). The curse being, I was spreading my focus too thinly. Yet, I was happy and having a ball and that’s why I kept on doing it that way. Looking back, now I can see how badly I needed to release all my bottled up emotions at that time.
Success at focusing in didn't come easy. But eventually excuses ran out and emotions balanced. It started to come naturally. When I learn to place my needs first, which also meant writing, anger never emerged. In fact, I was downright pleasant to be around rest of day. My discipline started with one hour of writing every morning and has evolved into a 5 to 8 morning experience and an hour in evening reviewing my day's notes.
The more I wrote, more outlet opportunities knocked on my door. I began three ezines, including a daily. Then I began writing for other professionals and Internet and Magazine articles.
When I began to allow my writings to go public, even one email about my English skills set me to tears and I couldn't write rest of day. Thank goodness it didn't last and next morning I was writing again. At that moment, I realized importance of a disciplined writing time.
