Why I Write

There is a moment when you’re writing, when there’s this shift, as though the words have been traveling to this particular point all along and have known it, only you, the writer - who is supposed to be the Creator of their universe, their unrivalled God, you, the omnipotent - didn’t see this shift coming; and the surprise of many, most or all of those pieces that have been spread out on the pages suddenly clicking themselves into place without it seemingly having anything to do with you, sends a rush of triumph through you that is incompatible with anything else. You know what I’m talking about.

The truth is, the writer and the language he or she possesses have a BDSM relationship, where the writer would like to think him or herself as the dominant partner (a God in control of the world), but must admit to being a willing slave to their craft, which governs them with an iron grip and is at times irrational, unpredictable and haughty in its demands and expectations. It will allow for inspiration to enter at times that are more than inconvenient, and sometimes keep it at bay when it’s needed the most. It will twist and turn the writer’s mind until their head is spinning and it feels as though nothing good will come of it. It will be a compulsion and it will not let up, but this is how a writer earns his or her right to call themselves a writer: all the slaving under the whip of a master will have its rewards.

The language spilled onto a page that is printed black on white for all to see, that heavy scent of fresh ink that seems to paste itself inside your nostrils and along the inside of your throat, that is something of beauty. So what if you struggled with every other paragraph and thought you would never finish, so what if that one plot hole proved nearly impossible to fill without causing at least a speed bump, so what if you felt you spent most of your time staring at your computer, praying for it to burn a fuse and go black before your very eyes - frustration is part of the process, indecisiveness and doubt and anger are as well, but the process wouldn’t be the process without that emotional rollercoaster. What can I say, I love it.

Creativity is like a force that wants to break through your skin, urging you to do something about it or it will have to damage you in order to tear free. Splash it on a canvas; paint it on a wall; ink it onto skin; put it on a page or catch it in a photograph - there are a million ways for it to express itself, and with me it seems to have chosen language.

What fascinates me is its thirst for evolution. There is a need to learn and grow that drives me to find new ways to express myself, new ways for inspiration to approach me, having me read articles, blogs and books about topics that catch my eye, and that usually leaves me with a certain something that is bound to be useful at some point, even though I don’t know when it will be pulled out and brought onto the page.

But this ties back with why I am the willing slave: the unpredictability keeps it interesting, keeps me curious what is coming next, who will I meet, where will it take me, what is my next adventure? It’s that absolute high of feeling contented with a sentence, a paragraph, a chapter, a novel, a scene, a screenplay, a poem, a character, a villain, the love, the hate, the struggle, the resolution.

There is no simple or concise answer to the question, but I would sum it up as this:

I write because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. Writing is such a huge part of me that if I lost it, I would literally loose myself. Writing is what I want to be doing for the rest of my life, so if this incredible gift was somehow taken away, I would be such a miserable creature that I would repel everyone and only attract misery and finally I would shrivel and wither away with wont of anything productive to do. Oh, yes - wither.

Writing is what makes everything else worth it.

And that moment of pure, undiluted magic, when everything suddenly shifts and by some grace clicks itself into place; when those threads that have been dangling throughout a work-in-progress simply tie themselves together in a flawless knot; that rush of triumph when I feel I am part of something that is me, and yet removed from my person, is like a little everyday miracle. It surprises me every time. And I can’t imagine myself without it. I wouldn’t ever want to.

Inspiration for the Wonting

I recently acquired a splendid music machine - having been without something portable for a longer time than I'd like to admit - and am using it to my ears' delight.

It's amazing to me how much clearer lyrics can actually get just by letting the words stream directly into your head. I mean those lyrics that have one word that makes no sense to you at all, and you're thinking "Why did they choose to put it like that, when this would have sounded so much better?" And now, with the direct-feed, it suddenly makes sense, and it wasn't "they" who put it like that, it was actually me all along, getting it wrong. Tsk, tsk.

I have to say, one thing that irks me a little in lyrics is this:

It don't mean nothing

It makes me want to say that no, it DOESN'T mean ANYthing.

Yes, it sounds anal to correct an innocent pop-lyric or the like (which usually use this type of annoyance), but to me, if it doesn't fit and you have to use sloppy grammar to get it in there, then don't use it at all - find something else that works better.

There is nothing that I love more than a good lyric, an inventive way of using words and rhymes (or foregoing the rhymes for telling a story, or using them sporadically), and there is nothing more inspiring than a lyric and melody that fuse together to paint you a clear picture that fit perfectly with the story or the characters you're trying to tell and portray.

Here's a tip for anyone seeking inspiration:

Choose a beloved song or an album that you haven't listened to in a while (just so that the music isn't fresh in your mind), close your eyes and let the lyrics surprise you. Let them tell you a story, and when they're done - write it down.

You can write it as a music video, with glimpses of the story and characters that come together in the end to make up a whole, though I wouldn't go down the "songfic" road, as this might stiffen the flow of the piece. When I say "write it as a music video", I mean just that: write it in script form, with parts of the lyrics present to show the way of how the visual adheres to the words being sung.

If a music video isn't interesting, then you can write an actual short story and see where it takes you. It's freeing, because the inspiration comes from something that will not go away, and if it helps you begin a story, if or when you feel stuck you can go back to the source of origin and listen to it again.

x's
Annie.