Times are tough, so the expression goes. Things are not what they seem. Life is too much work.
Where in the world have I been for the last ten years, buried in books, stories, poems and songs. All of these I have written. All of these came from life. Every life can be written, but should it?
Writers find the things they have seen, experienced or in some other way discovered. I have not had the perfect life, contrary to what some people believe. I have taken what was given me.
I know my strengths, I can lie and make it sound believable.
I have always been able to do that. At first I was ashamed that I was lying, then I started writing down my lies, those lies eventually formed the basis for some of my short stories, books and poetry.
My writing has always been about life, whether it is from a dark creatures point of view, or with something more personal, like my current project.
I have found that in trying to write something I should look at what I have experienced. There are points when we can find things we were looking for if we only reach for them. These are our memories, they may be bad or good, but we can find a place to put these memories in our writing.
Memories, things we have experienced are the lifeblood of an artist.
Understanding where we are, where we came from and what brought us to this point is where we can have our most profound writing and creating.
This bit of storytelling comes from our years of living in a world that changes and adapts to its surroundings. We also adapt and learn that touching a hot stove is bad and don’t do it again, unless on a dare.
Life has a way of forcing us to deal with things, whether we write them down and deal with them that way or not is another matter, for another post.
Write what you know is not as easy as it sounds if you live in the middle of Wyoming with shotty internet. You can still read about things in books, watch movies or come up with an idea that you haven’t seen before.
Our lives are better when they are written with a broken pen. The smudges are there hiding the things we don’t want seen. The drops of ink covering up that one time we can’t talk about. There are always the times that the pen does write beautifully, those are the magical times when we have absolute clarity with our writing. Where everything is limitless.