To The Blank Page

Remorse, they say, for the opportunities lost to you, for they’ll never be afforded to you again. Believing their fatalistic and narrow-minded view, remorse you do. There’s so many opportunities in a persons life they pass up because they cannot appreciate the beautiful fragility of that moment which will haunt them. This is a lesson that can only be learned the hard way. Until you break free from a finite mind state, I’d imagine such opportunities would continue to haunt you.

On the same side of that token, you cannot spend your life chasing down opportunities trying to make them right. This does not mean that it shouldn’t be done however, as moderation is, as always, the key.

Opportunities drive stories. We forget that, like the characters in a novel, we are living a story every day. Each day its own novel of thoughts, emotions, sights, smells, and experiences. Each week a compendium of its constituent days, and the over-arching story they form. Each month the anthology of its weeks. Each year an archive of the months, and each lifetime a library of stories that make up who you are as a person. We are shaped by our experiences, just as our decisions shape the course of our life. In this same vein, one can say the opportunities afforded a person also shape your life, as the choices made in each instance can forever alter your timeline.

This is why opportunities are so precious. This is why we value them as we do. This is why the fatalistic view of the world came to be; the rare circumstance that combine in this chaotic world to bring about an event that corroborates with our situation and our tastes, and preferences, and ideals. This is why opportunities lost can cause so much misery; why remorse can ruin a life, just as much as a single opportunity could change a life for the better.

Opportunities, even the possibility of, can drive us to great lengths. The beauty of life is that for every missed opportunity, a new opportunity takes its place. A missed opportunity can be like a miracle though, in the end it forces you to grow. It challenges you to become better, and be prepared for the next opportunity.

Writing is not, by any means, easy. The act itself can be accomplished simply by picking up a pen or pencil and paper, or booting up a word processor. Whatever comes to mind, and is recorded, is considered to have  been written. Quality aside, context disregarded, writing can be simply stringing letters into words.

Striving for anything more, the expectations, the anxiety over quality, it can often times be debilitating.

I’ve got so much time but I can’t find the words to put down while filling that time. There’s so many words  lurking, I can tell, within my mind. Names, places, images, events, they pass through my imagination like ghosts through a wall. Seemingly without limit, they continually pass by.

Some ideas linger. They shake my mind, they can sometimes possess me. My fingers vibrate, yearning for the touch of the key, or the embrace of a pencil.

Like trying carry water in my hands, the ideas just slip between my fingers until all that is left is the moisture in the creases of my palms. I can lap at it, I can get a taste, but once that taste is done, I’m on to the next thing. I don’t savor the flavor. I don’t stop to get a true image of what I’ve experienced, what I’ve created, or what I’ve written. In the end, the flavor is lost and so has the interest.

How do I put the fear behind me? How do I find the strength to stay and write, to push through the fear, the doubt, the fog of war. How do I convince myself I’m good enough, when I can’t give others the opportunity to do so as well.

I know I can do it. There’s a feeling inside me, there’s a beast that lurks within my breast, it infects me with the knowledge that I can do it. It’s a passion that, only in rare cases, can be tapped in to. Like the magicians of the stories in my mind, I must learn to channel that passion, shape it with my imagination, and record it to completion through dedication.

It wasn’t until I decided to become a writer, that I’ve encountered issues I never thought I would. I find comfort in my respect for writing. I’m determined to see this to completion even if it means I must struggle. The only failure, is the failure to try. Even if I don’t ever finish a novel, or get published, I’ll always have the experience.

It has recently come to my attention that Stephanie Meyer’s Twilight series has done a great dis-service to men around the world. A playful comment made by a co-worker of mine to a Facebook post about the series on a friend’s profile, yielded some interesting response. Particularly in a rebuttal from a third, also unnamed female. The comment, a negative statement made towards the series, sparked a response from this third party whereby she cites the comment as a reason why she no longer likes “normal” boys. This is an atrocity.

For quite some time, it seems the status quo has been for men to impress women through their bravado and lack of manners. In antiquity, particularly the 50′s and 60′s, the greaser’s and bikers were the true bee’s knees. It seems in this day, the status quo is raising it’s standard further and further. No longer will being a warm-blooded homo sapien qualify a man as a suitable mate. At the rate this trend is proceeding in fact, pretty soon being a human being and expecting to get dates will actually be a faux pas.

What I do not understand then, is why would women want to date a creature that could potentially devour them? It’s a shame that I could imagine a woman in this near future wanting to date an Eat-My-Life because Stephanie Meyer’s new book paints them as the ephemeral lover and loyal protector.

The crux of the matter is this, when will the romanticization of mythological monsters cease? Will a wendigo be the next object of young female adoration? Will my children have to compete with demonic cannibals in order to earn the attention of their high school crush?

I sure hope not.

A lot of times an errant fiction writer assumes that their apparent lack of skill stems from an inability to write, coming to the assumption that the task for them is futile. This kind of thinking is morose to say the least. Writing is not a process that comes unto those who posses a certain unique quality or skill or ability. Writing is about telling a story, an act in and of itself that should not be confused with masochistic self-torture. Storytelling is, I will admit, not a skill everyone possesses. It takes a unique perspective to tell a story, an even rarer perspective to invent a story and tell it simultaneously. That being said, there are many writers who supplement their writing with events that have most likely taken place in their own life, or suffuse their characters with the spirit of friends or family. There are short-cuts a writer can take to make the process easier and to make their writing more telling a story, than building a world.

Some writers assume, because their characters are thin or their plot feels contrived, that their story is not worth the telling. This is not so. As with every other task we apply ourselves to, over time we become better at it. A bottle factory worker does not immediately begin capping hundreds of bottles per hour. It takes repetition, continued effort, and fervor, to get to that point. It also takes time, a lot of time. A writer does not immediately have the ability to weave a quality piece fiction. It takes exploration of one’s own imagination, discovering one’s passions, drawing from your source of knowledge, and ultimately: writing! A writer cannot excel in the craft unless he writes.

Even now, despite the fact that I choose to publicly display my work, I am self-conscious of my writing. I too can write thousands of words into a story only to feel it slip away and the passion I once held for it dissipate. This lack of confidence eventually poisons your mind and rather than continue to try, you give up. There are two primary reason’s for this and one I’ve already mentioned, lack of confidence and writer’s block. I don’t think a writer truly believes in writer’s block until they realize this simple fact: No story you write will come flowing out of your finger tips. Writing a story takes time and patience. Your characters are thin? Get to know them better. Learn what trials and tribulations they have been through that has shaped them as a person. Examine them in particular situations and see how they react. Your plot is contrived? Mix things up; a lot. Add a character. Introduce a new scenario, see how your characters react. Or, seek help. Perhaps you don’t know your characters well enough to further the plot, or perhaps you don’t know the plot well enough to make it anything other than contrived. Perhaps you rely too much on stereotypes, maybe more people-watching is called for. The world gives us so many tools as a writer it’s a shame to suffer when trying to tell your story out of hubris. Never be too proud to seek assistance, or guidance, or new information. Most importantly, never feel above what you’re writing. It’s easy for a writer to lose confidence in their work if they feel they could do better because until you’ve fully explored what it is you’re writing, you really don’t know.

Essentially, in order to be a writer, you have to have the confidence to pursue it. Your writing will take you down alleys at times that are cut off by tall brick walls but it’s up to you to scale it and get to the other side. Like everything, writing presents its unique challenges, so don’t ever be discouraged. Writing is a process that should be respected and by giving up so easily, you are disrupting this process. Giving up will not teach you the skills you need to persevere, and it is only through perseverance that you can expect to create anything of value. If you ever feel like you’re not good enough, re-evaluate your perspective. Just because a story doesn’t feel worthy of completing, doesn’t make it so.

Ultimately, if you really don’t feel like you can do it, then maybe you can’t. Maybe that story you’ve had running through your thoughts and dreams is simply a fantasy never to be shared. Maybe the desire to write, the joy of writing, and the excitement of creating is simply God’s unique way of torching you. Or maybe it’s time you put up or shut up. In closing, I’d like to offer a piece of advice that will help you get to a place where you’re comfortable writing. Poor planning leads to poor execution. If you feel like your story isn’t going as well as you’d hope, maybe you didn’t plan enough before you put finger to key or pen to paper. Perhaps taking a step back in the writing process to plan where you want to go, who will come with you, and why, will really help you push through your fears.

Or, maybe you’re just not a writer, but forever doomed to be a dreamer.

I would ask that you please take this time to click on the page above titled “A TOAST, TO THE BLANK PAGE.” This page serves as an introduction to my journal. To avoid being redundant, I won’t regurgitate what’s already been said. I will however thank you for taking the time to read my blog. As often as I can, I’ll be posting up my random musing, be it a poem, short short fiction, or pieces of a larger story. This blog is poised to become an outlet for my writing that will allow me to utilize ideas that would have otherwise expired after lingering in my mind for so long. For the time being, there isn’t much for me to say other than this. Please look forward to my first piece which should hopefully be coming sooner rather than later. Eventually I hope to set up a regulated schedule. I think however I’ll save that level of dedication for when this blog becomes more than just another destination for the internet’s tumbleweed and spam bots.

G