On Writing and My Life (my thoughts)
If you read the image then you might have an idea as to what this post is about. On the other hand I’m being presumptuous… oh well.
I’ve been reading Kristen Lamb’s Blog for a while so I decided to get one of her recomended reads “On Writing” by Stephen King. An amazingly candid book that alternately makes me laugh out loud and stop to think about my own life. So, in that vein, I’ve decided to make this very first post all about what made me want to be an author.
In truth, the writing bug hit me in my teens (when my writing was anything but shining) soon after I actually derived pleasure from devouring a ‘required reading’ school book; “Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle-Stop Cafe” by Fannie Flagg (I think). We had to read the book and then watch the movie and compare them (the movie of which won an Oscar). Needless to say; I
hated (nope) despised (*sigh*). Disliked (there we go) the movie for it’s total lack of depth. The book however, carried out an amazing roller-coaster ride I haven’t forgotten 10 years (EEEP! am I that old?) later.
So I ditched the idea of reading a book first and then watching the movie because that first experience ruined it for me. So instead of caving when the first Harry Potter movie came out, I waited (ummm yep something like) 10 years for the movies to be completely finished before I even picked up one book. I like being amazed. Movies are a quick fix of amazement (the rather large collection sitting in our living room can attest to that). We all have our favorites. My 2-year-old loves anything cartoon (but prefers cgi to trad. cell amimation any day), my husband loves roaring action (fun stuff), mind-numbing comedies (gag me) and other totally guy stuff, and I prefer movies with a point or a meaningful ending.
But I’m getting off topic (sortof).
The movies are really a large part of why I got back into writing. It was not something I stuck with in the 10-year interim that was the shiftless, lost years of my life. The time when the majority of my biggest mistakes were committed and my greatest memories were realized.
The worst of my mistakes was listening to what everyone else wanted for me so much so that I convinced myself it’s what I wanted too. But in the end I failed everything I tried to force myself into. The things I’ve been really happy and successful with are the things I’ve chosen for myself.
🙂 Call me sadistic but I’m really quite happy with the looks I’m getting now when I tell people that I’m writing a book. Too many people know “the look”; the smile leaves their eyes, the mouth slowly follows suit, a small, “oh” slips softly past before they can censor it and they end up almost sneering at you before they quickly paste a big (fake this time) smile on and politely say “well that’s nice” or “what are you writing?”. But you can tell that they don’t really care, not because they’re mean, but because they’ve already decided that you’re akin to the rock with the crawly things underneath; interesting but totally uncharted territory.
Even with the looks and the husband eye rolling and my mother-in-law clapping her hand over my mouth trying to stifle all the writer talk, it’s still better than working a dead-end job that wanted to be priority #1 and realizing that if I placed it in that spot I’d never have left. It’s frightening to picture yourself 20 or 30 years in the future never having acomplished anything with your life. And a perfectly logical (albiet childish I know) response to run screaming in the opposite direction.
Thus the kick-start to my current situation in a nutshell. I am a wife, a mother and a writer (in the order of appearance :).) and happy for it.
I’d love to hear about anybody’s ‘kick-start’ or epiphany.
Happy friday. TGIF