'A
writer writes, always.'* Except, that is, when that writer is tired, bored,
hungry, at work, excited, upset, stressed, content or distracted by even the
slightest thing, such as an unusually shaped orange, or something equally
inane.
The
problem is that there are literally thousands of things to do other than write,
and sometimes, it feels impossible to sit still and concentrate for long enough
to do anything constructive or useful. Although I seem to find an inordinate
amount of time to play Fruit Ninja, which is neither constructive, nor useful,
although it is bizarrely satisfying all the same.
Often,
finding the next word, the next step, is the hardest thing in the world. What
is stopping me? Is it actually the inability to find the right word, or does it
go deeper than that?
Being
creative is not simply a tap that can be turned on and off at will (although,
my friend Zolneczko will confirm that I'm
actually very good a turning non-metaphorical taps on, just not turning them
off again, but of course, that's another story**) Sometimes my brain just won't
connect the dots. Sometimes I can't find the neat and reassuring life lesson at
the end of each cycle of experience. Sometimes it's all for nothing, and
sometimes it just makes me sad. Sometimes all I can do is remember the fact
that life can be an arse for no good reason, and maybe it's that niggling truth
that saps all inspiration out of me, and i just don't see the point in trying
to express anything at all (yes, I too can hear it, it's the world's smallest
violin, and it's playing just for me!)
The
other less than less fantastic thing that appears to come with writing, or lack
of it, is a soaring ego that is inexorably linked to a crushing self-doubt.
It's the Larry David of it all, it's a constant stream of LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT
ME! DON'T LOOK AT ME!
I
crave appreciation through my writing. I know how it feels when I've done a
good job, something I can be proud of. I also know when it's not so great and I
just try my best to hammer out something that is acceptable to you, a pleasant
way to spend a few minutes, at least, if nothing ground breaking. I want so
badly for people to like what I write but I also find it really difficult when
people are positive about it. I want constructive criticism, I want to learn
how to be better, but the slightest complaint I can still take to heart so
utterly it can make me creatively impotent. It's one of the weirdest and most
delicate ecosystems of insecurity that I've ever encountered.
I
may not write as a result of many different influences and emotional states in
my world, but for all of the times that those things stop me from writing, they
are also, always, the reason why I write in the first place. I have worked out
that are four different 'types' of writing that I do on a regular basis. I know
I say that at the risk of sounding hella pretentious, but bear with me on this
one. One of the most important types of writing for me is the writing this
blog. Because I've purposely left this as a nicely vague platform of
expression, it means that ideas and snippets that start out in the other types
of writing often end up here. This is my favourite method of problem solving,
because I have to find patterns in order to make these pieces congruent and
fluent (or at least, that is what I’m aiming for, even if it’s not always
apparent!) That is what makes blog writing excellent practice and super helpful
for my brain on many levels. So thank you for reading this and giving me a
reason to keep doing it.
The
next 'type' for want of a better word, of writing, is the attempts at short
stories. Little ideas that often lead to nowhere, but I like to try to put them
together and see what can happen, even if it just means shelving something until
a time when I may find it relevant again. Then there is the writing of my
story, the BIG ONE, and this is the writing that has received the least
attention recently, to my great shame. The last 'type' is my diary writing, the
writing that will never see the light of day if I have anything to do with it!
That sort of writing happens frequently, if not daily. It is probably the most
enjoyable form of writing I do because it is completely personal and written
for nobody but myself. It's a massively disjointed, rolling stream of mostly
nonsense. Much of it is just me blowing off steam. Often it's not even in full
sentences, and you know things are a bit grim in Chrissy world if the entries
contain painful attempts at poetry. I love poetry but I cannot write it. That doesn't stop me trying to though, behind
closed doors and with the curtains closed, a dirty literary secret.
In
thinking about the above, I realise that I do write, even when I'm not 'writing'.
A writer really does write, always, even if it's not for any good reason.
Writing is my way of expressing who I am, my way of trying to find patterns and
make sense of the world, my way of trying to find answers and meaning.
I've
recently read some of my older attempts at writing, with a view to comparing
the then to the now. The benefit hindsight gives me is that I now recognise how
raw and intense some of the emotions and ideas that I expressed were. What has
changed from then to now is my desire to say less about me in a linear, 'here is
the plate' manner, and to express at lot more through characters that are not
just a part of me, but a reflection of my experiences and personality, and the
experiences and personalities of the many and varied people I have known over
the years. This is because our lives are
stories. Our experiences always have so much in common, pain is pain after all,
and joy is joy. We have all tapped into the fundamental parts of living and
this allows us to understand and empathise with the stories of others. Writing
is all about making the reader care about the characters' journey, without your
interest, empathy and attention, it's just the equivalent of a person speaking
to an empty room.
I've
been very, very angry with myself over the last few weeks, if not months, for
being so lazy with my writing. In particular, the big writing, my story, not
the inconsistent stanzas that I seem incapable of rhyming. But after speaking
to a lot of lovely people recently, I am starting to think that maybe I
shouldn't be so hard on myself. I'll get there or I won't. It's all about the
journey anyway, and as long as I keep writing in some form or another, I'll be
happy. Except that's not enough, it will never be enough, I can do better, I
should do better, I owe it to myself to be better. And so once again I am
confronted with the conflict that comes with trying to do something you love,
one minute up, the next down. Full of confidence to full of doubt, a seemingly
endless cycle.
I'm
a contradictory person on so many levels. I'm wary of change, terrible at
thinking outside of the box, and I'll be so focused on what is in front of my
face or what's happening tomorrow that I forget to think about the rest of my
life. The thought of planning something bigger, larger than my immediate sphere
of influence, is terrifying and off-putting because I'm lazy and indulgent and I
want to stay inside my box where it is safe and weird and mine. But the idea of
being trapped inside my box forever is even more terrifying and that's how I
know that I have to test my boundaries, I have to make an effort to see the
outside world, because maybe it will help me to work out what exactly I do want
out of my life. I think we're all a bit like this though, aren't we? If our
brains worked in straight lines, contradiction free, life would be far less
stressful, far more organised, and completely and utterly without soul. It is
the conflict, the contradiction, that makes us look closer. It's the void
between who we are and who we could be that makes us so hopelessly,
wonderfully, fascinatingly interesting.
I
think the point of sharing writing, fictional or otherwise, is to open up your
flaws, and your perceptions of the flaws of others. This process of confession,
and presumed confession on the behalf of others, is the spark of connection
between the writer and reader, it is what makes that sharing process
meaningful. Do I believe that I am the only person who feels they have
potential but constantly wastes it? Am I the only person whose wants and
desires sometimes conflict with the priorities and responsibilities of my
life? Am I bollocks. It's within all of us, it's part of the human condition,
and writing is a continual examination of what it is to be human. I want to
write people that you can relate to, because I am people, and I'm trying to
write what I know. A good story can change a person's heart. It's a lofty
ambition I'll grant you, but you may as well aim for the stars because why the
hell not? I have read so many stories that have touched me on a personal level,
that have reflected my own journey and struggles and inspired thoughts and
ideas in me that have helped me to work out what I think and helped me to comes
to terms with how I feel about the world. To say that a good story can change a
person's heart is an understatement actually, I think it would be true to say
that, for me, books have helped to make my heart.
Our
flaws are what make us real, and we make mistakes as a result of those flaws. Overcoming
these mistakes makes us stronger, it makes us better. I think that we need to
stop being so angry with ourselves for being full of contradictions, but we
should never stop analysing our behaviour and trying to be better. The journey
of our lives is the drama, it is the
story, and that is why stories matter. It is this thought that reassures me
that maybe it is okay to be a walking contraction and a writer. If you have all
the answers there is no story to tell. Telling the story helps me to learn the
answers for myself, because a writer learns as they write and the reader
follows the journey.
I
am a work in progress. So is my whole life and all of the relationships in it.
So maybe it is okay that my story is currently a work in progress too. That is
not to say that I shouldn't get it finished this year, because after I've
finished learning what this story has to teach me, I would like to move onto
the next one. But letting go of the frustration of where I am at the moment,
and focusing on where I could be in the near future, will be a large part of
moving to a place where I will be done, I am sure of it. I think that is
something we could all do well to remember, whatever our goals, whatever we're
giving ourselves a hard time about for not achieving yet, to stop flogging
ourselves for where we haven’t got to, and start working on how to get there.
'The
night was hers.' Hmmm, I like the sound of that.
*The
line, 'a writer writes, always' and the idea for 'the night was' metaphor for
writer's block are both taken from the most excellent film Throw Mama from the Train, which I implore you to see. It's not, in
a million, zillion years the film you might think it is judging from the title,
it's an excellent film about writing and imagination made in the 80's starring
Danny DeVito and Billy Crystal and it's utterly charming.
**
I managed to break my friend's kitchen tap in the last week and sort of, maybe,
caused a mini flood, if you will. That was the first of three breakages so far
in 2014. Let's pretend I do this to be ironic or to amuse my friends, okay? And
not that I'm just one of the clumsiest buggers you might ever have the
misfortune to pass a glass to.
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