It's a hard truth to admit to. I've been writing stories for a long time. In fact, as of this Sunday, I will have been writing stories for thirty-three years. Every day writing. Every day editing. But when my grandfather fell ill and died, I dried up. There were a few other factors, one of which I have been strictly forbidden from talking about, but that was the main one. Days went by without writing. Sometimes weeks. I hid in a bottle for a while. I had a nervous breakdown. Shit got horrible for my creative life.
I tried to get myself together, but I did something stupid. I tackled a very, very personal thing for me and tried to turn it into a novel. Everyone advised me against doing so. I should have listened. Sure, I got my 2,000 words a day on it, but I fucking loathed every minute of it. I finished the first draft, and I was disgusted with it. Maybe someday I will try birthing it again, but not anytime soon.
I continued writing after that, but it was not a regular thing. I didn't like any of my output. Speaking as someone who wrote every day for decades, it horrified me.
Do you know what turned me around? If you follow me on Twitter and Facebook, you know that I've been working on this horrendously offensive thing. It might even be the most offensive thing ever written in America. I offended myself writing it.
Those of you who know me really well know that I thrive on being offended. Not like other people, who become offended and feel that their voice matters enough that they spout it on social media. Being offended, for me, is a rarity. I've led a fucked up life. It takes a lot to offend me, so when someone pulls it off, I'm awed and impressed. The Girl Next Door by Jack Ketchum deeply offended me. It's one of my favorite books ever. The same for A Serbian Film. I'm talking art, not real life. It's easy to offend me in real life. The idea that we, as Americans, are the bad guys in the world right now offends me to a ridiculous level.
But we're talking art right now. I offended myself with this thing, which surprised me and made me happy. I loved working on this thing every day. The first draft is done, and it got me back into writing. Now I've written several stories that I'm in love with. I'm working on a novel that pleases me greatly and a short story that thrills me. Without this super-offensive thing, I would not be where I am today.
I'm not publishing that one under my own name, by the way. That's how offended I am. Some day you all might read it and be just as offended. Please know one thing, though: that piece of fiction saved my ability to write. It brought me back from the brink. The world will hate it (and my pen name will get a shit-ton of death threats), but this horrendous thing saved me.
No comments:
Post a Comment