This is the third and final post in the series – which is a shame because I’ve really enjoyed reading some of these responses. Today I have three more writers sharing their thoughts on writing. Given the positive feedback from this series I will have to think of a new question to ask writers for sometime next year and run another series similar to this. If you have any suggestions as to what you would like writers to discuss let me know either in the comments or via email.
Tirza Goodwin said:
Writing is mine. Writing can’t be stolen, destroyed, warped. Sure, the world can tear up the pages, erase the words, but the writing never stops in my head. Like some Phoenix, it rises up from my charred ashes, over and over, each time a bit brighter. Writing is my sanity on those blue days, those hazy crazy days when I’m drowning in my own oily thoughts.
When I was a child, my soul was murdered. It was strangled, slow so I could feel it. I couldn’t breathe inside my own skin. Like Frankenstein’s Monster, I was flesh without animation. And then the words came like lightning. And I was alive, so alive.
Writing is me, electrified.
But I know I’m still poisoned. My head is too full of things I can’t think of, won’t think of. Writing lets me bleed it out. Bleed out that the world isn’t fair, love is conditional, hate is eternal, and pain feeds on itself like fire. I burn.
Writing is my cure. It makes the world right again, me whole again. It paints my black skies blue as sapphires. It lets me love with a heart unafraid of scars. To forgive even though I’m still bleeding from a thousand wounds. I rise, once again, my wings spread wide in flight.
Writing is a window into the mind.
We’re permitted into the music of the soul when we read, and when we write that music is conveyed to the reader in the strategic placement of letters mixed and weaved into words. Some choose to share their voice in story, others in poetry, but always that unique perspective is imbedded into the paper or screen like a thumbprint forever marking its owner.
Writing is the ability to communicate with people we may never meet in life. To transfer our deepest, most secret thoughts to willing minds centuries after we’ve passed away. It’s an imprint of culture, a reminder of the past, an outcry, a revolution, a still, silent voice, a story. We travel as far as the imagination can take us as writers, and we accomplish things we might never have the courage or opportunity to accomplish in life through literature and poetry.
Writing is a journey to the stars, a safari in Africa, a cruise through Europe, a trip to the future, a retreat into yesterday. It’s an expression of our emotions, conveyed in a medium the entire world can receive.
Writing has the potential to melt away the wall that surrounds each of us, so that for an infinitesimal second, we live one another’s adventures as one soul united, one mind, one imagination, one body terrified and joyous and universally alive.
Corra McFeydon is a writer who longs to be an author. You can visit her on her blog, From the Desk Of A Writer.
Writing is all-consuming. My story insinuates itself into every aspect of my life. When I’m writing (and really, that’s practically all the time), I sleep and eat and dream and shower with my story in my head. My family gets bored of hearing about it every time I see them. My children’s eyes glaze over when I launch into another recap of my day’s work. I’m banned from speaking about the story when I have friends over for dinner.
Writing is also voyeuristic. I often find myself listening to conversations and making notes when I hear a particular phrase I like. I study people at Target and Trader Joe’s (and probably scare them half to death) because I want to remember someone’s walk or the way they flip their hair over their shoulders as they’re leaning forward to look more closely at something on a shelf. I watch the way lovers kiss and touch because it fascinates me the way people interact and the expressions on their faces and their body language tell me more about themselves than their words ever could.
But most of all, writing is a necessity. I need to write like I need to breathe. I need to form worlds in my head and give birth to them on paper. I need to give the people living inside my brain a face, a name, a existence, a life. Writing is absolutely necessary to my mental well-being. If I don’t write, if I don’t let the characters in my head out, I honestly think I’d go just a little mad. Of course, anyone who writes is just a little mad to begin with, aren’t we?
Fiona Skye is the nom de plume of an Edinburgh-born author, who is slightly obsessed with Gummis, coloured pencils, photography, and otters. She is currently at work on A Murder of Crowes, a vampire story with a twist. Visit her blog (http://fionaskye.wordpress.com) to follow her on her Writing Odyssey, as she finishes her manuscript and journeys to get it published.
Thanks again to all the writers who contributed to the series.
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