Though I saw it all around
Never thought I could be affected
Thought that we'd be the last to go
It is so strange the way things turn

Tuesday, November 6, 2012

How do you know

This is a part of a longer internal conversation I've been having with myself over the past year. How do I know I'm a writer?

Recently this came to a major head about a month ago (or it feels like a month, maybe it's only been two weeks). I had a very realistic dream (I dream in color, in case that makes a difference). The scene was a mashup of a local convention and my Viable Paradise class. There were lots of really cool things going on and I was getting totally psyched and energized (which is one of the reasons I go to conventions, because that happens 75% of the time). And then a group of us were in a con suite/green room space and a BNA I know, respect, and have hung out with turned to me and said, "Just stop it. You're embarrassing yourself, Steve. Admit you're not a writer and just move on."

Yeah. Woke up crying. Haven't done that in almost a decade.

Needless to say I've been depressed since then (little d). I haven't had much time to process that with everything else going on. But, hey, I'm skilled at stuffing my emotions away. That's probably why I haven't been able to lose any weight lately.

Part of this, I'm sure, has a little to do with the last time I was around this BNA. Something happened that at the time I took as a joke. However, with my own paranoid tendencies, I've been wondering if it wasn't. So for over half a year I've been debating writing an email asking them about it. But then I think I'm being too needy or self centered, and chicken out.

How do I know I'm a writer when my output has been taking that hyperbolic plunge toward "nadda"? Because right this moment I had such an intense home sick feeling for writing that it again brought tears.

God, I fuckin' miss writing. I miss sitting in a corner telling myself jokes and pounding out the words; ignoring my wife, the cats, and the rest of the world. I miss thinking where I should send my stories/manuscript next. I miss it down to lint in my toe nails and it hurts because I'm not writing (you know, other than the small solace writing the blog gives). I even miss the nice rejection letters. Can't beat that.

Writing, I just can't quit you.

So maybe I should write that letter soon.

2 comments:

Eric said...

Solidarity, man. I've had much the same feeling, lately, and I don't know quite what to do about it. I'd offer advice if I had it, but I don't; I can at least offer literal (no pun intended) sympathy--that I've felt much the same and empathize with your pain.

Hopefully, we'll be able to work through it. It's all we can do, right?

Steve Buchheit said...

Hey Eric, thanks for sharing anyway. It's the old poser feelings surfacing again. And there is nothing for it unit classes break. Unfortunately I have a feeling that I won't be good for anything until. Near Xmas. And then the schedule goes wonky. Then there's two weeks until classes pick up again. I just need to psych myself up to do a flurry of activity in a little less than a month. If I could get to 30k on the wip or any alternative wip, I'll feel a whole lot better.