Let it go.
Move on.
It’s okay to move on.
However, you have to talk about it.
(Hello Listeners.)
These are some of the lessons I’m learning as a writer. Going to the next phase is good, and being afraid of the unknown is normal. Actually, I think wanting to stay planted where you are is normal also, but it’s limiting. I don’t want to sound like some all-knowing life-guru who knows it all (I’ve not lived long enough; give me about 80 more years or so), but these are some of the lessons I’ve been learning as I’ve been living. And I’m not saying this based on some strict principle saying that 23-year-olds shouldn’t still be whining about taking out the trash or finding employment. There really is a lot of world to see, a lot of world beyond your personal world. The world is HUUUUUUUUGE and life is short.
Now, hold on. I’m not saying to go flying off by the seat of your pants (unless you want to. Hey! Adventure is waiting), but I think I’ve been afraid of all of the potential problems I could encounter.
For a while now (about five months or so (wow, it’s been that long)) I’ve been uncomfortable with the idea of moving forward. It scared me to go out into the real world. What if something bad happened? What if I couldn’t handle it? What would people think about my strengths?
What I’ve learned about myself recently is something about staying in the same
town with the same people serves its purpose, but if there isn’t any growth, things become stunted…and I’m 5’5! I’d very much like to be taller lol.
This is repetitive I know, but the whole idea of writing for the sake of publishing…or peace of mind…or helping someone else feel relief makes me feel like I have a purpose. Finding my own style is part of the fun, but it does determine a great deal once I've made up my mind. Choosing my path not only gets me started, but it pen-ultimately determines my life-story.
Yes, nothing is written in stone, but I think it was my mother who once mentioned that the decisions one makes between the ages of 16 and 25 are the ones that mold the life lived. Since turning 23 (and I'm sorry if this sounds a little morbid), I've began to realize how much time I've spent living, and how much time I do or don't have left. Every moment is gone before you even get the chance to think on it. The stories of the people who are both living and have gone on to their eternal resting place inspire me to make my own choices concerning what I do and what I write down.
Temple Grandin, a forward-thinking animal scientist, used a squeeze machine in order for her to find relief when hen she felt agitated or misunderstood or threatened or when she felt like no one would hear. That is what writing does for me.
So, here I am to tell the stories. My personal stories, the stories of my heroes, the stories of my friends and the stories of the people I admire from a distance. Maybe one day that’ll lead to people being healed or free. This is what I want; for people to be free of their pains and hurts and from the secrets that torture them all day and all night.
It's a new journey, and I'm finally ready to be excited to take it.
Keeping the Faith and Keeping It Real,
aM
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Friday, August 12, 2011
The Help: Not a Misnomer
If a person chooses to be a writer, I hope they aren’t doing so for an easy ride (I say this with humor, of course). Sometimes, some people think putting a story together is an easy task, like baking a cake (and I’m sure someone can attest to the fact that even one-two-three cakes have their difficulties). However, even if it is innate to do so, telling a story isn't simple. Personally, I don't think writing fiction or nonfiction makes a difference concerning the complications of delivery. If the story is fiction, well, writing a story from one's own imagination is not easy to even think about. Hey, a story can be based on a place the reader has visited or…Hogwarts (again, more humor). Are the characters realistic? Does the plot make me care? Is the story trivial or not? Again, this is a skeletal view of idea so I’m not going to go into too many particulars.
Nonfiction is a little different. See, in fiction there is more liberty to elaborate or draw back or even tweak the “facts.” After all, they’re the writer’s facts. They are the master of ceremonies; what they say, goes. To me, nonfiction is about validity, truth, facts. Writing stories about events that have really happened make the writer have to do more homework concerning facts, truths, and the like.
Regardless of the genre, it is the responsibility of the writer to tell stories, even the ones that no one wants to talk about.
"The Help" taught me that.
I thought about which perspective to talk about the film I saw today. Should I talk about the historical, well…walls and hiccups that the struggles of the 1960s bring to the American forefront every once and a while? How the women and men in the theater today laughed and cried and gave the occasional “Mmm-hmm” in unison because something in those projections resonated with something on the inside of each of them? How “The Help” is not a film for everyone, especially if the truths we try to forget about are as ironic as the film that brings them to the forefront?
No.
I want to talk about Skeeter, the protagonist of “The Help”, and how she felt the responsibility of writing about something she strongly believed in.
Skeeter is an unmarried a 23-year-old recent college graduate who is trying to find her voice in the world, knocking on doors so that people would hear it and hoping that someone will say yes.
So am I.
She’s not too keen on the things she sees from day-to-day and knows that she has a (rather outspoken) opinion about them. She has stories to tell, and wants them to be heard.
Without going too much into the plot, Skeeter begins to write about the things that make her think, make her hurt. That’s when it got me to thinking about my own responsibilities as a writer. There are stories all around us. Matter of fact, if you just sit down and ask someone about themselves, you will have enough information for at least a full handwritten page (come on, I’m keeping it real here).
It got me to thinking about the stories that I want to tell, the things that I want to do, and the fears that I sometimes have about the possible repercussions that may come because of my actions. Here’s the key, though: it’s about telling truths in stories without being obnoxious (at least, that’s what I’d like my style to be like). I can tell you the truth and even make you laugh a bit without trying to break your soul.
This film reminded me that my stories are worth telling because everyone doesn’t come from where I do, even the people who live in my neighborhood. I think it was in “Spider-Man 2” where Dr. Otto Octavius talks to Peter Parker about intelligence being a responsibility to be used to aid mankind; a privilege, if you will. I think the writer has that same calling: to writer what I think in a manner that bespeaks the passion with which I believe it (Thank you, Taylor Mali).
So, until I sit down and write the specifics of my experiences with “The Help” (including a few of my weeping moments (yes, a few)), this is what I want the world to know I learned from this help.
So thanks, film makers, actors, and all of those who made “The Help” worth the ticket I paid for. You really helped me a lot.
Keeping the Faith and Keeping it Real,
aM
Nonfiction is a little different. See, in fiction there is more liberty to elaborate or draw back or even tweak the “facts.” After all, they’re the writer’s facts. They are the master of ceremonies; what they say, goes. To me, nonfiction is about validity, truth, facts. Writing stories about events that have really happened make the writer have to do more homework concerning facts, truths, and the like.
Regardless of the genre, it is the responsibility of the writer to tell stories, even the ones that no one wants to talk about.
"The Help" taught me that.
I thought about which perspective to talk about the film I saw today. Should I talk about the historical, well…walls and hiccups that the struggles of the 1960s bring to the American forefront every once and a while? How the women and men in the theater today laughed and cried and gave the occasional “Mmm-hmm” in unison because something in those projections resonated with something on the inside of each of them? How “The Help” is not a film for everyone, especially if the truths we try to forget about are as ironic as the film that brings them to the forefront?
No.
I want to talk about Skeeter, the protagonist of “The Help”, and how she felt the responsibility of writing about something she strongly believed in.
Skeeter is an unmarried a 23-year-old recent college graduate who is trying to find her voice in the world, knocking on doors so that people would hear it and hoping that someone will say yes.
So am I.
She’s not too keen on the things she sees from day-to-day and knows that she has a (rather outspoken) opinion about them. She has stories to tell, and wants them to be heard.
Without going too much into the plot, Skeeter begins to write about the things that make her think, make her hurt. That’s when it got me to thinking about my own responsibilities as a writer. There are stories all around us. Matter of fact, if you just sit down and ask someone about themselves, you will have enough information for at least a full handwritten page (come on, I’m keeping it real here).
It got me to thinking about the stories that I want to tell, the things that I want to do, and the fears that I sometimes have about the possible repercussions that may come because of my actions. Here’s the key, though: it’s about telling truths in stories without being obnoxious (at least, that’s what I’d like my style to be like). I can tell you the truth and even make you laugh a bit without trying to break your soul.
This film reminded me that my stories are worth telling because everyone doesn’t come from where I do, even the people who live in my neighborhood. I think it was in “Spider-Man 2” where Dr. Otto Octavius talks to Peter Parker about intelligence being a responsibility to be used to aid mankind; a privilege, if you will. I think the writer has that same calling: to writer what I think in a manner that bespeaks the passion with which I believe it (Thank you, Taylor Mali).
So, until I sit down and write the specifics of my experiences with “The Help” (including a few of my weeping moments (yes, a few)), this is what I want the world to know I learned from this help.
So thanks, film makers, actors, and all of those who made “The Help” worth the ticket I paid for. You really helped me a lot.
Keeping the Faith and Keeping it Real,
aM
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