Sometimes, I think it’s good to just sit down and write. To take the pressure off of yourself to write an eye-opening poem or a life-altering short story.
Or a novel.
I’m writing a novel. I haven’t told very many people but I guess the internet will know now. Whatever. Maybe it’ll go somewhere — like straight to the top of the best seller’s list. Maybe nobody will ever hear of it. But it’s not going to stop me from writing it.
I haven’t written the entire story yet so don’t ask me if you can read it (or ask me, I might say yes). There’s an outline and I have a general idea about where I want to take it but I’m mostly winging it. I won’t say all of the best things in life come from just winging it, but in my experience a lot of them do. So that’s my plan and I’m sticking to it.
What’s it about? I’m not sure I can give you a great summary yet either but if I had to say something I would say that it’s about self-discovery. And it’s about life. And it’s about forgiveness. And it’s about understanding that sometimes the hardest part of life isn’t learning to let go but rather learning to start over. Or just simply start.
Why am I writing it? Because I can. Because I want to. Because I don’t have anything better to do most evenings. Take your pick. But a lot of the time, when I write a poem or short story or a new chapter I’m writing it to remind someone that they’re tough or loved or not alone or just a hella rad human being.
Sometimes I write something to remind myself of those things too but most of the time I write something because I am inspired by the people around me, those I know personally and complete strangers I occupy the same space as for only a moment and then never again. Sometimes I write because I’m lonely. But then again, aren’t most writers?
We’re the chosen few in this world who get to experience the emotions of others for, through, and with the rest of the people on the planet. At least that’s what I like to believe. But not many people ever get to witness our own raw emotions all the time; my own emotions.
I can write something sad without truly being sad myself. I can write something happy without being overjoyed. And I can get so stuck inside of feeling something sometimes it’s almost unbearable. So I write to get it out. I fill the spaces on the page with words and places just to make it feel like something else. Or make you feel something else.
Everybody’s just a stranger anyway. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting to tell everyone how absolutely stunning they are. Sure, a lot of folks think it’s weird and even more of them seem caught off guard when you do that thing where you’re just a decent person with no hidden agenda but I can’t blame anyone for that.
What I can find fault in the human race for is our self-centeredness and how often we take the people around us for granted. We blow off dinner invitations and choose to send phone calls to voicemail and let time go by as if we have an overabundance of it and it will never run out on us.
I find fault in that because sometimes all someone wants from you is your company. A little conversation about nothing. Maybe a taco. Maybe to find another poem in your smile or a new character in the story from your habits. I spend so much time observing and really trying to get to know people because they inspire me so much that I forget not everyone is like that.
If we can’t give something as small as those things to the people in our lives, why do we keep them around?
Not everyone wants to know or even cares that you’re writing a novel. Not everyone thinks what a difference it can make to just ask someone how their day went. Not everyone realizes the impact they have on the people around them with every little thing they do and say.
And that’s okay. Because I see it. I write about it. I feel it when you don’t. And it’s okay. You don’t have to know me. You don’t even have to like me. But it’s not going to stop me from writing.
It will never stop me from writing about you and for you and finding all the words for all the things we never say to each other.