Unwritten

Does anyone remember the show  "October Road" ? Well honestly I didn't really keep up with it when it was on, but the initial premise was this: guy goes away to college, guy becomes writer, guy writes a book about his friends, family, and his hometown. He exposes all their secrets and makes critical judgment/portrayals of all his old pals. Then guy goes back home and shockingly enough he's not met with open arms.

That's the danger. The danger is in being entirely, and without bias, honest. The danger is in exposing the ugly truth with no consideration, no sugar coating, for your audience. How do you face them then, once the jig is up, once they know what you've said?  How do you look them in the eye when they realize : "um.. wait a minute...the villain here sounds a lot like me..."

And it works in the first person as well. It makes sense that a writer would use his/her own personal life for material, to influence a character, event, outcome, or perspective in a story, but that's putting a lot on the line. I've never been one easily able to express my inner most thoughts. In fact, I'd venture to say that my inner most thoughts have never been expressed, written, spoken, or otherwise. This creates quite a block. To have a chunk of ideas, thoughts, burning issues swirling around in your head that you have put in a folder in your mind labeled "Do Not Touch" can be quite immobilizing as far as writing goes.

My personal goal for myself is to move beyond that fear, to not consider the repercussions, at least not in the draft phase, to just write, unencumbered, uninhibited. I've been feeling for a while that there is something hiding back there in the recesses of my brain that I am dying to get out, but I can't seem to tap into it. The aforementioned issues seem to be the cause. It's a sticky situation though. How do you not worry what people will think, about the hurt you can cause others as well as yourself? And not even so much for writing negative things, but for mere exploitation or for telling a story that is not yours to tell - good or bad...

I admire the courage some authors must have for overcoming these concerns or for simply facing them, for being willing to live with the consequences, for stumbling through the awkwardness and keep going, for exposing who they are and being comfortable with that. It might not seem like much to others, but, me, I aspire to it.

The Funny Thing about Honesty. Continued.

I got very lucky here, folks. Things went much better than expected. In fact, I think we landed a best case scenario. That little lie, the omission, was rendered moot.  In the end the risk wasn't worth it though. So with the new information, I recommitted myself to the truth - going forward. Besides, apparently I don't listen well and someone needs to be there to actually get the information.  Can anyone tell me what spark plugs have to do with the human heart anyway??? But I digress, I may not have learned first hand with my little game of chicken, whether or not the lie made things better or worse. But I did realize it was unnecessary.  People are usually stronger than you give them credit for, and there's always a better way to deal.

Not Even the Trees

Some days you just get in one of those moods. You know the one I'm talking about, where you just hate everything, and everything seems to suck and will continue to suck, permanently. Then the next day, after you're over your mini pity party and self loathing misery fest you wonder why you couldn't see it the right side up all along.

 I hate those days. The day after I mean. I have a point on the day things seem to suck. I am focused on the details that need to be changed, on the things that aren't so pretty, the truth. And the next day it's like nothing ever happened. I forgot the whole point and I will go back to pretending everything is all hunky dory, fixing nothing, dooming myself to repeat the cycle a couple weeks or months later, over and over again.

Today was fine. The evening was fine. The girls and I actually got a lot accomplished. But on my way home I realized everything sucked. I could have made a list. I was enjoying my drive home, singing away, perfectly alone, no one asking me questions or giving directions, no ringing phone. Just comfortable solitude. I almost hated to see I was nearing home.  Nothing special brought it on, but my mind wandered away from the music in the car,  it all hit me. And I found myself thinking:


What exactly is the problem? What should be different, do I really want that? How can this be fixed? Who can help me fix this? People don't really want to hear your shit when your in this mood. And truth is no one can help you, if you can't help yourself. This is probably the way it just will be... I'm hungry... What a waste. What am I really trying to accomplish? Just need a game changer.  I wonder how that would go... Just go, yea, just go for it... God, this guy cannot drive... Decide already; so you can get to work. I need to put in the time...  no more running around every weeknight... seriously, buddy, you don't need an invitation to turn right. Ahhh, home...


Then I got home and watched some TV, laughed my ass off until I forgot all about it. I made no plan to think it through, vent it out. I came up to bed and well, things may suck right now, mostly because I am rehashing it, but I'm sure tomorrow I'll be blissfully unaware of why we ever had this talk. Figures.