So it begins - or not...

“I am always doing that which

I cannot do, in order that I

may learn how to do it.”

- Pablo Picasso

“You need to get into a small support group,” she said.

I was uncomfortable hearing these words. Confronting them would cause me to ‘take the step’ I was uncertain that I could.

“Look,” Rosemary continued, “People that tell you they can do this all alone with no help or feedback from others, are simply not being honest.”

I was feeling the pressure.

A little background…

Like a lot of people, I suppose, I have done a little writing in my life. I actually never kept a diary, or wrote anything that was not assigned in school until…until I found myself in Vietnam in 1969-70.  My friend John had suggested I keep a journal of things that happened that year, but I had not done much writing and things seemed to happen so fast there...the journal didn't happen.

During that year, however, I found the loneliness of so suddenly being transported to a land and culture for which I had no frame of reference, in combination with few anchor points, led to writing thoughts in the form of short poems and observations.

Things would bubble to the surface, from time to time, that were so troubling, I felt compelled to record my feelings. Of course, I never revealed my true feelings, but masked them in metaphor and cloaked meaning, just in case someone else happened to read them.

Over the years the habit continued, meaning there were things that passed by and through my life I felt compelled to write about. Most of these things were in notebooks that I didn’t keep. I suspect I felt it was the ‘momentary’ experience that counted…the experience of exploring the thoughts in writing.

The few times, I tried to write a book, I would start something…get a few pages in and simply run out of gas. Finding a story to tell seemed completely out of reach. It wasn’t just the ‘blank’ page into which I would stare; it was a blank mind preceding the blank page. Somehow I thought if I just sat in front of the computer long enough, something would come...they didn't! 

There were NEVER aspirations of writing the next great American Novel; it was just the desire to tell a story in writing.

Do something more...
In the fall of 2010, in Turkey, I finally decided enough was enough. The tension of the desire to write and the fear of failing tipped in favor of writing. That fall, I started writing ‘It’s a Big Life’ blog on the web.  There is no way to express how difficult starting that project was.

I told myself that writing would help me gain a better understanding of who I am (it has). I also thought that if I consistently wrote, it would help me find a broader voice and a longer narrative in the form of a book (it hasn’t). At the time, I had NO IDEA how much or even what I would write.  

As it turned out, I found myself churning out a blog every single week. I thought it would be easier as the weeks passed (it hasn’t). Every week the blank screen says,

“Seriously, do you think you have anything to say??”

In the spring of 2013, at Molly’s recommendation, I attended a writer’s workshop at our local library. She knew the angst I go through and suggested being around other writers might help the process.

Over the past two years a couple of things have happened. The first is that our workshop leader encouraged me to compile the blogs into collections, leading to two published books: Life in Small Bites – moments in time in 2014 and Life around the Edges – a winding road in 2015.  The second thing is that I have begun to consider actually writing a novel by myself. 

I say by myself, because I started a couple with my friend Bob in Texas, but after each story got going, our collective creative tanks seemed to empty out.

I have tried not to talk about the desire to write a book, because of the fear that I won’t be able to ‘find a story’ to tell. It’s not that there is a burning passion to write, but rather wondering whether I am capable of stretching a narrative long enough to actually tell a coherent story.

Forcing the issue…

I found myself floating the idea to some of my workshop colleagues, but hedging my bets by saying I was just ‘thinking about it’…hence my conversation with Rosemary who, by the way, is an accomplished and successful writer of historical fiction.

“I like your blogs. You seem to know how to do that. Now it’s time to step it up and write something longer. Remember, we all need help.”

           

So now I find myself in the situation of either doing this or not. In some ways the mountain seems insurmountable, on the other hand I know that when you openly confess fear or doubt, much of the battle has been won.

So, to the readers of this blog I confess my doubts and declare I have begun a novel. It may not see the light of day, but that is not the goal here. The goal is to face the discomfort…the blank page…the brain that unconsciously says, “No you can’t” and make the effort to consciously say, “Yes I can.”

As I find a group to work with, the blogs will continue, just know so will my angst….

- ted