Larger Than Life

I thought I'd celebrate November with a post on why I write. Because we all know what November means...National Novel Writing Month, whoo!

I first began writing in fifth grade. I don't mean just enjoying writing, though I certainly did, I mean it truly was my first time trying my hand at making up stories and writing them down. I added the writing them down part because I do believe I'd been creating stories long before that in my mind and with play-mobile, stuffed animals, and every other kids toy. Oh yes I remember those days when I didn't worry about forgetting ideas. Writing them down was and always will be the hardest part.

Something I came to realise was that my way of writing at that age wasn't common. The one comment the teacher made to my parents was that my stories were good, but that I never finished them. This I believe is a writers frame of mind. We're able to start something before it's completely formed in the mind. It was true, I would begin something, write a few chapters, then get bored and start something else. While I'd spend chapters getting into the character, everyone else wrote short stories because they needed the end to be in sight. They wrote little summaries of something they did with their friends and wouldn't dare make something up in a fantasy land. The difference was that I was not afraid to just start out with a character and follow them wherever they wanted to go. I know a big part of the ability to write stories beyond experiences lies in our imaginations. Having been homeschooled I had time to see and do so much more than these children which gave me a huge head start.

As I've gotten older, writing has become more meaningful to me than telling a story. It's my friend when I'm feeling sick at heart and it's my only outlet at times.To me writing isn't just about communication. It's deeper. With writing no one can pretend it means something different if you really put your heart into it. This is handy for me because my words and actions don't always match. I'll say one thing, act another, and mean something else. Written word gives me the opportunity to say exactly what I mean in a convincing way. To me it seems more serious. There's no face behind it to lighten the tone with a smile to make it unbelievable. No one doubts what it means because it's stated clearly. Words have always been rather harsh and delightfully plain to me. They don't have multiple meaning that you have to guess at like with people.

Another reason I write is because it helps me understand myself, sort out my thoughts, and organize my brain somewhat. I've always found written instructions more helpful than oral because I can refer back to them without fear of forgetting. It helps me realize my own values and gives words to describe them for others. It also makes things true. By recording it down on paper, it shows that it was important enough that it wasn't made up, to me at least. Often I won't understand how I feel about something until I write it down and see the words I've used because I've been taught to ignore feelings and live numbly apart from them. Writing makes me feel a part of it like wandering in a library among shelves of descriptions and taking some down to study and identify with.

Beyond writing for myself, I just finished a wonderful book on writing called "Bird by Bird" by Anne Lamott in which there was a chapter on writing gifts. Writing like you're doing it for someone else is so powerful. It allows you not only to figure out where you yourself are trying to go, but once you do, you can share it with others and help immensely because there will always be someone out there who's desperate to know if anyone is thinking similarly and could use help. I searched far and wide for something written by a child who'd gone through anything like me and found nothing. It's a great feeling to know that the pain of reliving experiences you'd rather forget caused by writing it down will help another in the end. I write mostly for myself, but when that fails, I can always get myself to write for others.

With NaNoWriMo going on and everything I still plan to post but I'll see how it goes (my name is Wink on the young program if you want to add me). I'm so excited! This is the first year I'll really be able to participate because I'm finally at home and I own a computer so I don't have to do it at the library. Encouragement and cheers to anyone else who has taken on the challenge; let the month begin!

I found this verse both comforting and fascinating that there was someone who lived so long ago that had a problem with speech  and describes it in such a way that I can directly relate to the feeling. Yet the Lord gave him other ways to communicate, one of which was a spokesperson. It makes my inability to speak well seem a little more like a gift than a curse.

Exodus 4:10
10 But Moses pleaded with the Lord, "O Lord, I'm not very good with words. I never have been, and I'm not now, even though you have spoken to me. I get tongue-tied, and my words get tangled."
11 Then the Lord asked Moses, "Who makes a person's mouth? Who decides whether people speak or do not speak, hear or do not hear, see or do not see? Is it not I, the Lord?