18 January 2013
Do we as writers think more deeply about everything?.
From as early as I can remember I always thought differently than a lot of my friends. My mum didn't have a lot of money but I remember having some coloured pencils bought for me, I must have been about 4 years of age. I loved them so much. I treated them like they had feelings, never leaving yellow alone without blue and green. At night I would tuck them all into their little blue pencil case. During the day I would line them all up and look at them in wonderment that these coloured writing utensils could create words and pictures in perfect harmony with my mind. I never understood why all the other children didn't have the same bond with their pencils.
I suppose I've always romanticised everything. The words would enter my mind and just flow from mind to page. As soon as I was able to write I would write little letters, mainly to my adored Gramp, telling him how much I loved him. Nan would get letters from me about how my younger brother was annoying me and how I was going to run away to live with her.
Friends liked my quirkiness some thought it was cool, but I wasn't trying to be, I was just being me. Whilst others thought I was strange for not thinking about my first proper kiss, or wanting to have a lad groping my developing boobies or asking what does it feel like to be fingered?. I always thought differently to others. I remember during a maths lesson (yawn)...one of the girls was telling us about her first blow job on her older boyfriend. I was sneakily eating a sandwich at the time which nearly got ejected by my gagging reflex that went into overdrive after her graphic tale was being told. My point is, I was in my own fantasy world. Although the blow job tale interested me somewhat I went home and wrote about the boy who only wanted me as a friend. I imagined our first kiss and the way it would feel. What followed was a teenagers angst ridden poem of unrequited love and a girl who'll never know what it is to give a blow job. I was always happy in the company of others but I was happier by myself. Writing songs, letters or just my thoughts. My mind wasn't always full of rainbows, puppies and pop stars. At times it was a dark place that only putting pen to paper could fathom. Writing has literally saved me many a time, for it was my release. It saved me from wanting to hurt those who done me wrong. From spiralling into depression, from saying awful things to someone. My pen and paper was my friend, psychologist, voice of reason, truth, hope and love.
Those who don't share the same passion with words can never understand. Not even my husband understands, he's a man of few words and life is what it is. He was unaware of my writing as it was all hidden away. Having 5 more children, took up all my time and so my writing became suppressed. The only writing I did was a diary that I kept. Creative thought though lay dormant. I began to feel lost, lonely and resentful without my words. Writing I feel is the one thing I can do well. To not be doing it, is like I'm not being me, just a nobody going through the motions of everyday life. So I began to write again, then I discovered the wonderful world of Opuss. I only wished that there had been Opuss when I was younger. Oh the writes we could have shared!!
Now I'm doing something I thought I'd never do and feel passionate about. A novel. I'm now on my 8th chapter and I'm eating, sleeping, breathing my book. I'm bonding with the characters. Falling in love with one...wink wink! I have constant scenarios playing out in my mind, dialogues pop into my head just as I'm drifting off to sleep. I get butterflies in my stomach, when I know I'm going to be alone with my mind and my iPad, to continue the story. I have only told a select few of my friends from my 'outside world'. That I'm writing a book. They wouldn't understand my passion and drive for it. They'd wonder how can you fall for a character that you created from your own mind?...well quite easily actually...this is the girl who had a crush on He Man and Captain Scarlet. A friend told me about an author who said on completion of her books she always has a good cry and a glass of Champers. I totally get that and I know that I too will cry once my book is finished, I can't afford the Champers but I'm sure a glass of Martini will suffice.
I once read somewhere too that writers are really tortured souls, well if that's true then I'll happily take the torture as we can tell everyone about it in a beautiful and eloquent way.
©Kim Brown 18th January 2013 Thethat is created fromactCaptain Scarlet!!!
Oops I Did Again...Pencils, Puppies, Rainbows And Captain Scarlet • Opuss № I