Why do I want to write? That question seems unanswerable. It’s kind of like asking someone, “Why do you want to eat?”” Both answers would be, “Because I must.”
When I was nine years old, I wrote my first long story, and writing has been a need ever since.
There are many stories in my life. Many joys, sorrows, tragedies, and even ethereal experiences. Much of what I have written was borne from a need to self-heal. Writing is cathartic. All of what I have written is close to my heart – personal. I’m afraid to set these writings free. I fear to let them ‘have their own life’; to be savored or devoured by others.
After joining several writer’s groups, a feeling of dismay has filled within me. I see so many hopefuls, working away on the next bestseller in their genre. Self-publishing a novel for the simple reason of calling oneself a novelist, writer, author, seems to be a common goal.
I want more than that. My main focus, in my writing, is to share a true, intimate story for the purpose of helping another person – I write about the human condition. Is that theme lost?
Despair is a narcotic. It lulls the mind into indifference.
– Charlie Chaplin
Sue Marie St. Lee 
🤔
Why you ask?
Sue-hell, i’m no writer- i just tell stories. my English is shocking, my punctuation woeful. I forget rules, don’t understand the lingo, and guess wether to say ‘S or S’ .
I have to look up basic words all the time, and send shit in before i read it through properly. Editors cringe, tell me they don’t have time to accept my crayon scrawls, warn me i can’t send in the pish i used too. World is moving on, plenty other fish in the sea. Sort my English out. Buck up my ideas. Comform or die.
My moto used to be-
“bah, they’ll get the idea.”
i didn’t care if i screwed up, i just knew i could tell a story better than 98% of the crap that’s out there. Folks screaming they are ‘real published authors’ to anyone who’ll listen on their ‘facebook author page’ while we all push our shitty books on each other online when really, half of the sludge is just page filling blah blah blah.
Please.
i just enjoy telling a tale, with the hope that it will connect with at least one other like minded person who actually reads the stories that get printed. The amount of people that buy an anthology without actually reading the fucking work inside them is astounding and shocking.
That’s the kinda people ‘real Facebook writers’ have become. Self obsessed title hugging wannabes, who would rather slide that copy onto the shelf and take a photo of the spine and post it on instagram rather than break the bindings reading the fucking tales inside.
I get so fucking excited like a giddy kid when somebody replies to my fan fiction, or stops to tell me i’ve written a great tale, which then makes me go back and read it too.
Only then do I see the errors.
And recently, that shit has made me cringe.
Now that doubt is creeping in, the self doubt, the ‘am i good enough’ shitty whispers that crawl and poke and stab all over my stories like worm infested fur balls on the kitchen floor coughed up by my lazy ass cats.
So now i ask the help from friends- Beta readers to join me, tame this wannabe writing beast inside me to obey the whip, slow the fuck down, and to read the god damned rules.
So does that help my nerves?
Like hell, I submit and sit biting my nails waiting for their reply. Now the stories get the same treatment the muse got in the movie ‘Mother’. “Fix this, change that, don’t forget this, don’t say that!” And now the process becomes that little tighter, my tales are taking shape, no more stuttering, no more stumbles, no more panic to submit. I Just focus on my own lane, i am Usain bloody Bolt. My incoherent family night slide show tales have all of a sudden become 3D fucking glorious techno-colour ben hur epics with lines written down from somewhere deep inside where who the fuck only knows lurks.
…or so id like to think.
That’s why I write.
I write so that people can say “mate, you should write a bloody book”
I write so that people can say”mate that should be a fucking movie”
I write because when i read, my story becomes bigger than all the other shit out there and I can prove to myself that we can still produce ideas better than any Hollywood cash grabbing gender pandering remake, sequels.
holy hell!
5am rant!
i’m gonna use this in my next post!
sorry!
😳
great piece btw.
Should I just stick to scrabble?
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OH my God! I’m having a few pints right now and can TOTALLY relate to what you’re saying! Hell, I went to school back in the ‘old’ days, with NUNS!! Man, if our grammar wasn’t correct, we were BEAT with a fuckin’ metre stick, some of us had to stand in the garbage pail afterwards!
But, I have also been a story-teller my entire life. Funny thing is, when you’re telling a story around the firepit with some beers, nobody notices grammar or spelling, right? But, nowadays, who the hell can even ‘read’? I mean, c’mon, “WTF”, “SMH”, … on and on with the abbreviations. Kid’s today are being dummied down, at least here in the states.
Once, when my older brothers were picking on me mercilessly, I figured I’d “get them back” by telling my younger brother that Mom and Dad found him in a potato field, that’s why his head was egg-shaped.
I still don’t regret that ONE little bit of cruelty – it was NOTHING compared to what my older brothers did to me.
By the way, I’m ready for a triple, double word win! Hahaha! 😀
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haha- when i woke up again after that morning rant i thought ‘oops’ too much and thought about following this up with an apology about my ropey language.
but it’s funny to see we all have a laugh at the same things eh.
Hope you get a few more of your tales into BHP anthologies.
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No apology needed. I enjoyed your rant! I actually share your thoughts but haven’t had time to rant.
Insofar as submitting more anthologies, I’m at a standstill with the 7 Sins. Wrote for Pride and Greed, but the others aren’t sparking any tales in my twisted brain yet. Oh well, they’ll come.
Have a great weekend!
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