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10 February 2010

In which we find ourselves

I started writing because I could. I loved story and story begged to be set free. Between my thin fingers a pen is usually found, clutched, held tight. Ink splatters my fingers, eternal rainbow of blue, black and green. The feel of ink on paper, of keys pressed, the excitement of random letters formed into cognition. Ahhh, there is nothing like it.

I fell away, as so many of us do. From writing, not from story. Other dreams, delusions if you will, took precedence and writing fell away. I devoured books, as usual, and characters crept into my dreams. Then a light shone and again I took up my pen to craft story, to craft life.

There are days when I feel I could rule the lands I write about. Then (most days) I feel like a bottom dweller, The Nothing. Writing pulls me out, saves me. I am free to be myself, no matter what the world tells me. No matter how I'm seen on the outside, through writing my truth is set free.

We're surrounded by normal, in our jobs, our families, at the grocery store. It inundates us. I hear a lot, "What a weird person" regarding someone who calls the office or comes in. Sure, they are eccentric or loud, annoying or strange. They aren't normal. But neither am I. I am not pressed khakis and collared shirts. I am not stare blindly, eye balls pulsing, fluorescent light tanned or, rather, not. Funny how when you're quiet people label you as normal. You open your mouth and people say, inevitably, "You watch baseball?" Like a girl isn't allowed. "Are you sure you can carry that?" It's a box of postcards, barely 5 pounds. I think I can manage. What would these people think to read what I write? Of dragons and sunken cities, of quickened bones and wandering souls. Of dark and light and the necessity of both (and the sometimes confusion between the two).

It is in writing we are free. Sometimes it's our only breath in a day filled with floating, face down, in a pool of "now" and "when" and "hurry". Breathe deep the words that flow from your pen. Let go and scribble unhindered. You are you and no one else can do what it is you are here to do. Find yourself through your words. Let ink become your blood, flowing through your veins as words become your meat and marrow. We have a job to do and once found, we can not, will not, shall not be held back.

Write on,
Jen

Got a moment? Wander over the The Manor for a delightful romp through the woods :)

17 comments:

Nisa said...

Very poetic. Lovely and true!

Mary Aalgaard said...

In writing we are free. Amen.

roxy said...

Yours is one of my favorite blogs and this post shows why that is so. Gorgeous and thoughtful. I loved it. You said so beautifully what I feel. That's the mark of a great writer.

DG at Diary of a Mad Bathroom said...

How I wish I had your gift for fiction and fantasy. Alas I do not. Your world sounds so fascinating.

Karen Walker said...

How inspiring, Jen, and just what I needed today, although the only writing I am capable of right now is a blog post now and then.
Karen

Brian Miller said...

in writing we are free....sums up exactly how i feel...

Michelle Gregory said...

"Find yourself through your words. Let ink become your blood, flowing through your veins as words become your meat and marrow."

beautiful. exactly how i feel. you have a gift with words.

My Farmhouse Kitchen said...

just lovely..enjoyed this so much, Jen....

i always love my visit with you

sending love,
kary
xxx

Anissa said...

What a beautiful post! Thank you for sharing. I found my way over from Roxy's.

Niki said...

Lovely post :o)

Terresa said...

I love this line of yours, "Let ink become your blood, flowing through your veins as words become your meat and marrow." (I'm Tweeting that quote next!)

My daily struggle is balancing the to do's of children, wifing, and other stuff with my writing, which is my blood. Still searching for a balance and writing through it all...

Kristen Torres-Toro said...

Thank you, my friend.

Inspiration in Italy said...

I love what you have written here, and what you have to say in this post. I think this kind of passion and love for an art such as writing means that it is something you were born to do. I used to sing, I took voice lessons for 6 years. My dad always told me this will be my outlet...and writing is your outlet. It is a beautiful thing. You have inspired me to get back into music. I do have to say that I feel somewhat the opposite about your loud/quiet statement. I am more of a quiet person and that usually makes me feel like I am not the "normal" person. Someone who is quiet while everyone else is talking is sometimes considered unfriendly, stuck up, arrogant, a bi***, and so on...haha. I'm sure it can totally go both ways though, often we are all misunderstood.

xxx
Rachel

The Blonde Duck said...

So inspirational!

Jen Chandler said...

Thank you everyone for the wonderful comments! They truly made my day today :)

Mr. Toast: thank you for pointing that out about the link. I'll head over there now and check it out!

Terresa: thanks for the tweet :)

Rachel: I agree 100% I'm usually not the one who talks a lot and you're right, people do think you're a snob if you're quiet. I prefer to be around quiet people. Too many loud people and I feel nervous!

Sarah In Wonderland said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Christine H said...

Hmmm. I feel the opposite when I write. I feel all the pressure of expectations and requirements of (theoretical) future agents, editors and publishers. I constantly question "Is this good enough? How can I make it better?"

I feel tied in a thousand knots, by a thousand different threads pulling me this way and that.

Somewhere in the midst of it all is a story.