THE THRILL OF BEING A WRITER
I find writing is like sitting at the top of a very steep slide at the fair where you sit on a mat after climbing a gazillion steps to get to the top and looking down all you can see is wave after wave of a slippery downhill surface…and no seat belts.
I looked up at the slide before us with fear and excitement. Holding the hand of my 4-year-old granddaughter, I thought “What’s the harm?” Then I nestled her tiny frame between my legs on the mat and prepared to release my grip on the safety bar at the top.
Looking back at it today all I remember is a distinct feeling that I might not survive. My life flashed before me as the wind sucked out a scream I never knew was hiding in the pit of my stomach.
OK…writing may not be quite as dramatic, but I’m here to tell you the feelings are very similar.
HOW IS THIS LIKE WRITING?
Time and time again I climb the steps to the top of my thoughts with the intention to release myself into the creative process with bravado. I grip my pen as if it were the only thing protecting me from what lay ahead, I take a big breath and before I surrender to the process I turn and back down from the edge of the next best-selling novel before a scream can find its way out of my lungs.
I am too old for this, I try to say to the queue of aspiring writers who are climbing the steps behind me to the top of the ride as I wriggle my way back down to terra firma. They all seem to know exactly what to do, and their anticipation of the ride equals the thrill of publishing their work.
HOW OLD IS OLD ENOUGH?
At the age of five, I wanted to go to school like my older sister. I heard “You are not old enough.” At the same time, when I wanted a sippy cup like my baby cousin I heard “You are too old for that”.
I never understood the rules for aging. Old enough to drive at sixteen, but not old enough to drink. When I reached 21 I was old enough to drink but too old to be seen driven by my mother to work because we only had one car in the family.
I was old enough to be officially an adult and then I learned that I would be ‘adulting’ for many more decades. By the time I was 50 I was told to make friends with my inner child and was given a coloring book complete with colored pencils.
When I reached 70 I was told to relax and enjoy retirement when all I wanted to do is ‘begin again,’ to try something new, to become a writer.
HOW OLD IS TOO OLD?
So here I am at 70+ sitting at the top of the slide again with an appreciation of the gravity of words and their power to instill anxiety as well as thrills.
But first I have to let go into the process. I have learned to control the screams so as not to embarrass other adults who have learned to temper the thrill of living lest people think they are ‘losing it’.
I look down the steep slide at my destination and realize it doesn’t take rocket science to get there. What it takes is a trust in the power of gravity and momentum…and someone at the other end to catch me to make sure I land on my feet.
Another short reflection on writing “Do You Get Distracted When You Write?” and a very short poem, “Wordpile” are my beginning attempts last year to be creative. I offer them with a dose of humility. We all have to start somewhere!
