There is a story I tell often. Not so much a story, really, as an anecdote, a fact. It goes like this: I first decided I was going to be a writer when I realized that there were people behind the stories I gobbled up as a child. People created these magic things, and I was going to be one of them.
And this is true, though nowadays I think that if you look hard enough, and maybe squint a little, there is a deeper truth there. That maybe there wasn’t really any decision. Maybe it was more of a realization, a recognition that there was nothing else in the world that meant as much to me as this. That there was only one thing I was really meant to do, regardless of ability, economics, or the likelihood of success.
There is another story, one I very rarely tell, and never in its entirety. This is that story:
I didn't write anything for nearly three years.
Oh, sure, I still carried around a notebook for all of except about four months of those years. I jotted down little things, mostly quotes from other people, a few small ideas, the like. But nothing real, no proper writing. No stories, no poems. I was completely dried up. More importantly, I was completely passionless. My heart wasn't in it. No big deal, right? I guess writing was just a phase, it wasn't meant to be, all those platitudes.
No.
It was a very big deal. I didn't realize how big until I'd finally started to struggle loose of the fog that I'd been living in, but it was a big deal. Living isn't even the right word. I was closer to a zombie - merely existing, shambling through life dull, indifferent, and apathetic. Nothing I did was with any effort. Certainly not my writing.
I dropped out of college twice. Only the second time was due to wanting to pursue something I wanted more than a degree.
It took a long time, even after I started consciously chasing it, for my passion to come back. I was scared, for a while, that I'd never be able to write again. That fear is what made me do it, more than anything else. More than writing classes, goal-setting, reward schemes. I was terrified that I could have lost something that meant so much to me.
Because here is another truth: I don't know who I'd be if I wasn't a writer.
I don't care if I'm never a commercial success. I don't care if I always have to work another job to support my writing (ideally, of course, this won't be the case, but I don't care if it is). I don't care if I never write a bestseller, never get interviewed, never see any royalty cheques. Just so long as I never lose my writing.
Writing is my way of approaching the world. It is my chosen means of communication. I can't sing, and I'm a shitty dancer, but I'll tell you a story about the colours of your vocal cords, or the bones of a ballerina that are hollow like a bird's, if you like. Writing is my voice.
A few months ago, right around the time I had my first professional publication, I stumbled upon two quotes about writing, or using your voice. The first was from Yoko Ono, and the second is anonymous, as far as I can tell:
"Every time we don't say what we mean we are dying. Make a list of all the times you died this week."
and
"Writer's block isn't having nothing to say. Writer's block is being scared of articulating what it is you have to say."
There are plenty of times, even still, that writing can be incredibly difficult for me. That sitting down to an empty page, I will be filled with sheer terror, certain I'm not going to be able to say anything. But these days, I work through it. I keep trying. Because writing is my voice, and I'm not giving that up again for anything.
The powers-that-be in this world so often wants you to be quiet, to keep your eyes averted, never speak up, always back down. The most political thing you can do, in a climate like this, is refuse to shut up. To claim your voice, and insist on using it in whatever way you choose. To be yourself, boldly, beautifully yourself. That is the strongest thing there is, for you and for others.
I hope to one day be a mentor for youth. I don't know yet if this will take shape as a career in teaching or something extracurricular like a poetry coach. This is my biggest dream: to be a creator, and to facilitate creation. I don't think I'm qualified quite yet - I've still got some work to do on me. But some day soon, this is what I'd like to do.
And in working with those youth, I want to help them find their voices. I want to encourage as many people as I can to live out loud. I want to make sure as few as possible other people who need words lose them. I just want to do my bit.
In the latest Brave New Voices (youth poetry slam competition) video, there is a moment before the competition that all the kids are together, getting ready. They are chanting something:
"You got something to say. Say something."
So, this is why. Why I blog, why I poet, why I storytell. Because I am one person out of 6 billion on this planet. Because I have a heart, because it broke, and I stuck it back together with sellotape and chewing gum. Because I'm looking for something, and I don't even know what it is yet. Because I lost part of myself, and I was lucky enough to find it again. Because I can't not.
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