Being a writer

I’ve said before that I think people are born writers. Not authors, not professional writers, but writers just the same. I’ve never said this before, but I also think being born a writer is a punishment for some atrocity you’ve committed in a former life. I suppose if you know right away you want to be a writer when you grow up and only surround yourself with other writers (and someone to help you with money and whatnot) then you might end up pretty happy. The rest of us, however, sort of meander about and wonder if what everyone says about us is true. Are we really crazy? Well, we probably are. Just a little.

Being a writer means when you look at the world you see layers. Most people just see one little happy reality and that suits them just fine. Writers see layer upon layer of possibility and are already writing everyone’s backstory in their heard. Perfect example: You know that video that went viral a few years ago with the couple and their wedding party dancing down the aisle to Chris Brown’s Forever? Here it is in case you forget.

Most people look at that and see a cool couple and their awesome and good-natured friends. I cry like a baby every time I watch it because her dad’s not there. In my mind, she was so sad about her dad not being around to walk her down the aisle that her loving fiancé and friends decided to make it fun and not something she needed to dread. “Forget tradition,” he told her as his thumb ran along her skin erasing all trace of her tears. “We’ll do it our own way.” SEE? LAYERS. It’s like that for us with everything. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING, is just what it is (even though we may say that a million times a day as we try to convince ourselves of it.) We feel more, see more, love more, hate more, need more…everything is just more.

So let’s say you’ve made the leap and are now published in some form. Your typical writer is very introverted. Very, leave-me-be-with-my coffee-my cat-and-my laptop kind of people. Now our words that meant so very much to us are out there in the world for people to read. Novice writers think their family will support them. And while this may be true, it will NOT be to the degree you expect. Everyone in your family isn’t going to buy your book just because you wrote it. They aren’t going to be as excited as you think they should be and they won’t tell their friends. Sorry. That’s just the way of it. (Unless they’re writers too, in which case: Jackpot!) Once you’re past the need for their approval, you then focus on the rest of the world. What if they hate it? Worse, what if they ignore it? HOW COULD THEY? How could they ignore this perfectly prepared masterpiece you’ve given them?? Some will, some won’t. It’s a crapshoot, like everything else in life. If you have a publisher you better get on the social media bandwagon and promote, promote, promote (even if it kills you) because if you don’t, another author will and publishers/agents would rather work with the author who will make them the most money because they have to feed their families.

Despite all of this, we trudge along. Why? BECAUSE IF WE DON’T WE WON’T BE ABLE TO FUNCTION. I wish I could stop writing. I wish I could just delete my unfinished WIPs and ideas and turn my back on the whole damn thing! But I can’t. And when I do, when I give it the old college try, I fall apart. I can’t concentrate because the stories rumbling around in my head cause the rest of my brain to hemorrhage and become paralyzed and I am nothing but a blob of sadness and despair and loss. So I write.