On Beginnings

I spend a lot of time thinking before I write something down. I need the perfect words, the most precise snippet of language in order to begin anything. And that is a flaw.

You see, I view my writing as a reflection of myself - my "talent", my personality, my worth... It's all I am. So to begin something on an uncalculated step seems relatively pitiable to me. Like I'm giving up. For me, long-winded sentences with grandiose language and grating wannabe-opulence is beauty. It's light. It provides me with a reason to think and try harder.

I don't claim to need "inspiration". I need to feel like I won't fail at "correctly" (whatever that means) representing myself. That's why I write too many poems that mean nothing on the side. That's why I cherish those poems - because they're something made from nothing. Something that takes more character than I have. 

Someone who is told they are constantly "wrong" (whatever that means) will not have as much courage to carry on and write and rewrite the same thing, even when they're told to do so, as someone favored by the masses. I'm not complaining, I'm stating a fact. As someone in a perpetual state of fear at the prospect of being wrong, I suppose anything but the attempts to be true to oneself is in my peripheral view. 

Fear?

My favorite poet, Richard Siken, is one of the primary examples I follow when dealing with fear. His poems deal with it head on, calling it out, using it as a tool instead of an excuse. For example, the poem of his I've been contemplating most recently, Detail of the Woods (link), opens with "I looked at all the trees and didn't know what to do." He takes the anxiety he feels and puts it in every move he makes. Maybe this matters, maybe it doesn't, but that's how I approach my fear in terms of writing.

I say it.

Whether it's audible, a line that flat out says it, or anxiety in the styling I want the reader to have the opportunity to invest as well as I can. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. Moving on.

I like talking about fear. Most of my pieces come from that place. Whether it be a conversation or a knife, the cut is what spurs my opening of a word document or a celtx project or a notepad.

My Nana has just passed away. This godly woman practically raised me. I've been writing about her a lot. As a critically anxious person, I've found even if I write something terrible in the moment, I'll feel better in the long run. I'll have proof. I'm not afraid of death, though, so I'm not writing about that. I'm writing about loss, and if I'll ever see her again.

I think I give off the impression that I'm afraid of breaking what I touch. Changing what's already been done. Truthfully, that used to be my agenda. I'd ask over and over again what needed to be changed before I could possibly hit the delete key. That's not how I feel anymore. I like ripping myself open, but I need a good reason first.

A few weeks ago, before my Nana passed, I started a script with a girl talking to her grandmother. Telling her a story. It was one of my ideas of how to start the three page plays. I ended up going with another prompt, but I digress. I haven't been able to touch it. I can't think about it for too long because I don't know what I'd say. I don't like people to read what I write about them. I've written scripts about my sister that I'd never dare show her. I guess that's fear. I hide things from the people I love. But I can't write this script because I believe in the spirit, I believe that she is with me - I believe that she knows what I'm saying. And I cannot disappoint her. I simply cannot.

I'm not someone who enjoys conflict. That's an integral flaw in my writing, but it's true. I don't want to be interpreted at a face value inappropriate in comparison to who I am. I hide in my writing. There. I said it.

So? What have I gotten out of this gab session?

I'm an anxious person. I have coping mechanisms, but I don't have true fixes. I'm trying my best. I'm grieving. That's it.