Howdy, We all have a voice that lives inside of us and is aching to come out. We all have things that we must put down on paper, shout about or sweat out that cannot be pushed aside. Speaking what is true for us is freedom. We all have a story or stories that long to be told, to a friend, lover, sister, brother. We all have a story that brings us closer to our truth, that describes our selves… that reminds us of who we are.
I remember feeling like I had to write a certain way if I was going to be a writer. I would need to be able to describe things in-depth, be super-duper articulate at all times and basically write like my mother. It is funny how we try to model ourselves after various people in our world that have had some major impact. My desire to write in a similar way to my mother actually stopped me from writing. Every time I would sit down to try to write in her voice I became stuck. It didn't work. I am not descriptive in the same way, I am more conversational. I don't have the fancy way about me that she does, I write, as I have been told, in a more raw fashion. I live that way too. It wasn't until I gave up trying to be someone else that I was able to write like myself.
Once I was done trying to be other than me I was able to write about anything and everything that excited me. I could write about love, about pain, I could write about philosophical ideas or how annoying it is when someone touches my hair without permission. I could write about things that I have lived through and things I want to accomplish. I realized that writing was a way to create the world that I wanted and remember the world I have lived. It was a way to make sense of what seemed senseless. It was and is a way to stay grounded. Writing can be a way to connect, really connect to the world, to yourself, to the one. We are all writers. We are all speakers. We are all story tellers.
What do you want to say?
I Want To Write by A.C.
I want to write about books and the way they smell when you love them. About the dog-eared pages that save my place, and how I wish that I could dog ear points in my life.
I want to write about infatuation and adoration and stupidity and trickery and the torment of knowing a lover too well.
I want to write about singers and songwriters and a musician that rocks back and forth with soul as if it were her mother.
I want to write about the sound of the ocean when there's no one else in sight and my hair is tangled and my lips are salty, dry and quivering.
I want to write about starfish and the rocks they cling to.
I want to write about mothers and daughters and safety and unconditional everything forever and ever amen infinity.
I want to write about lunacy and madness. About rocket ships and words on arms and mathematical equations I will never understand.
I want to write about her and her and the one that walked away with no wounds, and left me with all of mine to lick alone.
I want to write about want and need and co-dependence, about turtle shells and animals that protect themselves with outer layers, that at times I wish I had.
I want to write about faceless people, I have tried to forget,the ones who haunt me in the nite as I fight with sleep.
I want to write about cold hearts and hot coals on the bedroom floor.
I want to write about a girl, my girl, and the words that fall short each time I try to tell her how I feel.
I want to write about needing, and wanting and aching and yearning.
I want to write about capital letters, punctuation, and form.
I want to write about death and birth and what matters most between the two I want to write about writing and how painful it is. About how necessary it is.