A Pause

Writing will never leave me.  I know that now, more so than ever before.  It is intrinsic in my natural, my being to be able to make words out of what I'm feeling.  To put myself in haunting places and scenarios, places I may never even dream of being, but it is where my characters take me.

I used to worry when I didn't write for days on end - that this was it.  That was the last thing I would even put down on paper, into words.  But more often, now, I find myself ever forming stories - random bits and pieces that I come across throughout the day, ways to keep my brain entertained - and sometimes, on the moped ride home, I create fabulous lyrics, ones that can never be heard again by anyone but myself as I sing softly along with the hum of my motor.

I worry less because this is me, it's what I do.  My day job, whatever it may be, will never change the solid fact that I am a writer.  When I stop writing, it is my pause, my time to reflect, my moments to gather myself for the tasks ahead.  Although, I feel more of a desire to finish my unfinished pieces than ever before, I still don't have the motivation and drive to sit down and produce them.  But the desire is there, hungry, gnawing away at my heart valves.  One of them will burst someday and a fountain of words will spill out onto the page in a unyielding, passionate rage.

Until then, I will sit down and read my books, watch my television, and be the constant observer of people, facial expressions, conversations that shouldn't be overheard.  I am the creep that sits by you at lunch staring into the distance, a long look on her face, and you wonder - is this girl listening to us?  Yes, in fact, she hears every single word.  When you look away, she studies your face, feels your voice and your words, takes in your essence, only to use it some day, covering the white blank page with your secrets, or words inspired by your secrets.  And you'll never think, connect two and two together, that she was there while you were conversing with your co-worker, that you, in fact, inspired her.

I am the quiet observer, and I'm taking my time off from writing to gather new materials, new phrases, new words to stitch together my sentences. 

In the past three days, I have read the Young Adult novel FLIP, by Martyn Bedford, and half of Ender's Game.  I haven't felt this desire to read since I was much younger.  Maybe that's why my characters have been lacking - I haven't kept up myself.  I feed off of words formed by others, I am motivated by seeing, devouring finished pieces of work - I see and feel all the possibilities of my own life, my own ideas, just by reading.

FLIP was actually pretty good.  The one downfall of most YA Fiction is the lack of intelligence in the characters.  I really think we should be challenging young readers - especially if we assume that these readers are high school, maybe middle school level.  When I was in ninth grade, I had finished Moby Dick - and at that point in my life, yes, it was the most boring read ever - but looking back, it was a huge challenge.  I learned so much from just one challenging book.  That's not to say that FLIP is bad, I guess I was just hoping for a more challenging read.  And yes, I'm an adult, but I was reading books like this in sixth grade.  The concept - awesome, the characters - great, believable.  I think it is definitely worth the read, especially if you do have a child, you should get them to pick it up.  It is probably one of the more solid YA Fiction novels to come out in awhile.

As for Ender's Game - I am so upset that I didn't read this earlier.  I cannot put it down.  So many of my friends read it before me and I always wanted to get around to it.  But I thought, "Well, I'm not THAT much into Science Fiction, so maybe later."  Then I started reading it.  Goodness, it is like The Giver meets space, meets some crazy Ayn Rand novel, meets awesomeness.  Honestly, if you like Sci-Fi, you need to read it.  I found it in the Classics section at the Library (which is, ironically, in the corner, stuffed next to the YA section).  I have three more YA books coming my way - and as long as I'm reading, I might not be writing, but I am creating vastly new universes for myself.

If nothing else, I will at least review what I am reading until I feel the urge to write.  Once I'm back, I'll come back with a huge vengeance.  That's a promise.

Black Lace Leggings

I traced her black lace legging with my eyes, up her thick thighs, towards her dress, over the red polyester that hugged her body.  A Pall Mall cigarette dangled between her fingers, red lipstick streaking the filter.  She was leaning back on the gray corvette, the one that her dip-shit boyfriend owned.  One of her arms was placed defensively across her body, as if protecting a non-existent layer of fat from unknowing eyes.  Her eyes were fixed on the ground, a distant, cold stare.  She could shoot bullets through anyone with that.

I gulped and took one step closer.  This year was going to be different.  I was going to make her notice me.  I was going to break out of the nerdy stereotype.  I was going to get the cool, rebellious girl.

And with that one step, my entire life shifted, changed.  Here's the thing.  Her cheap polyester, the way she inhaled her cigarettes through puckered lips, her knee high boots.  They all were a sham, she cared more about what I thought of her than I ever cared.  She was the girl everyone wanted to be, and that distant stare was her way of trying to make herself believe that she was anyone else.

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I think I do specialize in coming of age stories - and there's a very particular reason that I believe I do.  I hate to be one of those people that says "I had a tough childhood" because really - I grew up in a rich town, in a decently rich state, with really good schooling.  None of my parents hit me, I was never grounded, but let's be real for a second.  It was external forces, things my parents could not have predicted or stopped that changed me, moved me into being a completely different person.  I have a story, called "She's the Bird" that I'm hoping to get published about one such experience.  There was a girl in my life that shifted everything - and even though it looked meek, it looked like she made everything worse - she really opened my eyes to a life beyond my small town - to all the possibilities in the world.