I think I’ve finally snapped. Hallelujah. It took me long enough.
I feel crazy but it’s a good crazy.
Don’t worry, I haven’t decided to change my name, dye my hair a different color and go around skewering people alive like Vlad Tepes. Although there are a few people to whom I’d love to cause pain like the pain they’ve caused me and the ones I love.
But that wouldn’t be right and I know it. I’ll let karma deal with them.
You know that fire?
The one that ignites somewhere deep inside you when you’ve finally reached your breaking point? And then you somehow pick up all the little pieces of you and say, “Enough.”
But that’s not it, that’s just being ignited.
From then on, there’s something stirring inside you. Something you can tap into and use. Something heated, something burning. It’s fire.
It’s you fed up.
In the movies, you get music and everyone is around that is important to you. What you do right then saves the day and cements into bone, who you are, and everyone knows it.
Movies aren’t real life. No one can see me. I’ve been struggling, over and over again hoping for something to come along and fix things. A reprieve, something other than worry and stress and fighting. But what on earth is that all about?
The pressure isn’t going to go away. Not for a long time. It’s not going to suddenly get better. Karma isn’t going to start working my way and repaying me until I figure out for myself just who I am. And what I’m going to do.
That fire – it’s me deciding for myself.
I know how to work under pressure. I know how to breathe under pressure.
Not to exist – but to live. To be me. Not to struggle against the chains binding me; but to calm myself, have patience, and slyly slink loose when the time is right. It won’t be soon, I know that much.
I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow. And tomorrow could be a very scary day for me. I don’t know what’s going to happen next week. Next year. I don’t know where I’ll be this time in two years.
And I don’t bloody care.
I’ve had enough.
I’m going to live right now. Do what I can right now.
I’m not saying be reckless and abandon all planning and forethought and responsibility. That’s not it at all. I’m not saying I’m going to stop thinking about what I want and where I want to go. That’s the exact opposite of what I’m going to stop doing. In fact, that’s what I’m going to start doing. Every day. Starting with the little things.
I’m going to take it day by day with certain things. With me. With my writing. All my stresses and apprehensions and all my caring what others think – I’m going to throw it all away in the areas I can and take it day by day.
I’m a sporadic mess but I have it all together. I’m all over the place and fickle but I know what I want. Starting right now, I’m not going to question myself any longer. No more second guessing myself.
And that fire? It’s going to be my compass.
There is no defining moment. You have to break free of your own accord.
I’ve decided to put aside WIP #2 for now. I will finish plotting, character building, world and species building WIP#1 and begin writing it. Then, and only then, will I begin to plot, character, world, and species build WIP #2.
But this time is going to be different. I don’t like making mistakes but everyone knows everyone has to make them. And I’m glad I made mine early. I’m not going to have to make them again to learn the lesson.
*So, I promise myself, the crazy people who exist in my head, and the future readers of my novels, that I will remember this:
If I am to truly write I must honestly open up a vein and bleed. I must pour out my soul, let it thrive in my writing. Some people are messed up. Some are oblivious. Brutal things happen every day. I will not tread lightly with this. I cannot honestly portray my happiness if I do not honestly portray the darkness inside of me as well.
From now on I must promise myself to write as I always should have. Start now. Have no regrets when I’m published and holding my book. I cannot help others or inspire others with my writing if I cannot accept myself and write the real story.
PURPOSE OF THIS
The title of this post should have been: I Finally Found My Damn Voice!
It’s what’s been screaming inside me, burning, what I think, what I feel. It’s who I am.
Actually, that’s partially incorrect with the timing. Apparently my voice been found for a while; I just didn’t realize it until just now. Stupid lost and found didn’t get around to notarizing me; the sections of my brain can be kind of slow sometimes.
So no more, ooey gooey, soppy, I don’t know what to blog about because I’m a big mess of ‘I dunno’.
Nope. Now you’re stuck with me.
blog: an online journal. You want me? You’re going to get me. I’m just not so sure where any of us will end up.
If you insist on NOT keeping all hands and arms inside the vehicle (blog), I might just write your gory corpse into one of my books.
Did you/ do you struggle to find your voice – writing or otherwise?