You say you want to write? No, you say you need to write. You say it’s the thing that you are driven to do? You say you need it like water? Like breath?
I can understand that. I hear you. I feel the same. I’ve written for most of my life, though I spent a great deal of time writing and tossing out what I wrote.
You see, for the longest time I thought that what I wrote wasn’t worth sharing. It took me years to realize that the decision of whether or not my writing had value wasn’t my decision to make.
But that’s in the past
That’s water under the bridge now, and I’m paddling doggedly upstream, leaving that bridge behind.
And I have no regrets about all those years of written words that never saw the light reflected in the eyes of anyone but me.
I tally all those words up and list the counts under the heading of practice.
But what could I learn without a critical audience?
Well, I didn’t learn what it was that others liked or disliked, I will readily confess that. But I learned how best to please my greatest critic. I learned how to please myself.
And what pleases me?
It seems that the thing that pleases me most is if I can get the words to show my feelings about the image I’m painting, the story I’m offering, the scenes I’m organizing for parade and inspection.
And as a result of those years of solitary writing, I weigh each word carefully, measure it and gauge its shape before I fit it into the story, like beads on strings or bricks in rows of construction.
If a word is too light, it won’t drive home the meaning. Too heavy and the story becomes a burden to believe. If it doesn’t fit then the thread of continuity snaps and the rest of the words spill and the story is lost in confusion.
And what weighs these words?
Why, my heart of course. Oh, it’s a bitter and crusty thing most times. It’s hard to soften it, but that’s good. You see, if the right words are lined up for its inspection, and they truly are the right words, then this old heart will soften, just a touch.
And if it melts into a quivering mass, the the words are too much, too sappy. So if my heart approves, if its mark is left on the page, then I am happy with what I’ve written.
And what about everyone else?
Oh well, you can’t please them all. I’ll just please myself and hope that works out for the best.
But hey, do let me know if you like this, okay? I wrote it myself.
