(In which I continue to ponder the question, “What inspired you to begin writing?”)
What I find so stunning…and alarming…is that Conservatives no longer even try to maintain the illusion of intellectual superiority. They don’t even try to pretend they are smarter and better equipped to do America’s intellectual and moral heavy lifting. No, they’ve decided that the path to power in our new idiocracy is by appealing to the lowest common intellectual denominator. They appeal to the stupid and the malleable through propaganda, disinformation, and the skillful disdain of the “Liberal intellectual elite”…as if having a brain and not being afraid to use it is somehow unAmerican.
Every now and again, I write something that, when I go back and look at it, stops me in my tracks. Reading something and appreciating it’s craftsmanship and creativity is one thing. Realizing that I WROTE IT is something else altogether. Perhaps it was being raised by Lutherans or growing up in a family in which the unspoken rule was “Don’t rock the boat.” Perhaps it’s an often soul-crushing sense of self-doubt. Whatever the reason, I became skilled early on at not attracting attention…even though I often craved exactly that. As a child, I was the person who wanted to be noticed, but dared not act in a manner designed to attract attention…because in my family that often didn’t end well. The nail that stuck up was hammered down. Painfully.
Not that this stopped me from finding places and situations I could control and thus attract at least a bare minimum of positive attention….
As a boy, I used sports as an escape, and the positions I played were indicative of someone wanting to be noticed and not afraid to stand up and demand it. In basketball, I was a point guard; in football, a quarterback; in baseball, a catcher. When I played soccer in college, I was a goalkeeper. All of those positions require the person holding it to control and sometimes even orchestrate the action, and when I played I wanted to be in control. I wanted the ball. If there was a last shot to be taken, I wanted it. It was really the only aspect of my life in which I could exercise any control, and I demanded and held on to it with everything I had. I could be assertive, demanding, passionate- and yes, I could be an asshole when the need arose and the situation called for it. Off the field, I retreated into my shell, doing everything I could to ensure the spotlight was focused anywhere but in my direction…because in real life, I had no control and very little perceived safety.
Writing was something I could control and feel good about without attracting attention- unless I pursued it, which seldom happened. It wasn’t until I was in college that I began to truly understand that I had a gift for stringing together complete sentences. When my then-girlfriend spent a semester in a small village in Costa Rica, I hand-wrote a letter to her on a roll of paper hand towel. By the time I finished it, it was 26.5’ long. That was my personal record, but it wasn’t the only time I wrote lengthy letters. It was easy for me to sit down and write out 20- and 30-page letters; my writing style was (and still is) very conversational, and I wrote as if I was speaking to the person the letter was intended for. I became known for my letters…though I couldn’t be certain anyone actually read them from beginning to end. I could write very long letters, but ultimately they weren’t about the recipient. I wrote them in large part for myself, for the satisfaction and sense of accomplishment the writing gave me.
At this point in my life, there’s nothing to be gained by being modest. I know I can write; it’s the one (and sometimes the only) thing in my life I’m really, truly confident about. This is my gift, and I’m grateful for my talent. Recognizing, appreciating, and being thankful for that talent isn’t being boastful; it’s simply acknowledging what I know to be true.
Writing is easy for me, so much so that I struggle to understand why some people find it so daunting and intimidating. Writing is what fuels the artistic part of me, and that creativity keeps me coming back for more. My challenge has been (and continues to be) finding a way to support myself with my writing. This blog has been (for almost 13 years) a way to keep myself in the game, to express myself and hone my skills. It’s given me the confidence to realize that some folks might actually want to read what I write…not that I don’t frequently wrestle with self-doubt and a profound lack of self-confidence. I can be as painfully insecure as any other writer or creative type. Fortunately, when I’m able to put my mind at ease, I recognize and appreciate my gift. Even after all this time, I’m astonished that I have readers around the world.
(Cue the Sally Field moment….)
THEY LIKE ME!!! THEY REALLY LIKE ME!!!
Now if I just get someone to write me a (large) check so I can indulge that gift….
