Stream of Consciousness…Nov. 2017

Writer.bird-feather-2505306_960_720

11-10-17

One idea after the other has flooded into my head today and I am not able to act upon a single one in completion.  Yet, that’s okay.  My brain is working, and I’m thankful.  I wrote an added chapter to my work in progress which

has opened doors and avenues for more ideas….

 

I met with friends who inspire me and nurture my brain, as we talk on one topic and then another which leads to even another.  Then, we decide on a general time frame for our next meet, all of which enriches my soul.

It is comforting to know there are many more ideas waiting to come to life when this current goal comes to its fruition.

To my delight, my doctor’s visit today included discussion about Quentin Tarantino movies.  Dark and disturbing, but nothing I’d walk out on.  Darkness lives among us.  We cannot run from it, but we can try to shine our light into its corners.  I also tend to take a muscle relaxer when it creeps up on me like some of those Tarantino scenes…They creep up on you and blow up immediately.  Case in point:  The Hateful Eight.

There is awe-inspiring literature still to be discovered, and though I am in between books, I am once again teaching the wonderful novel by Walter Dean Myers, titled Bad Boy.  At the heart of it is his struggle for identity, his longing to be a writer like Shelly or Byron, existing right beside his love for ‘playing ball’ and his increasing awareness that race and his place in society (back in his time) may not fit with his desire to write like Yeats.  His struggle for identity touches me.  Portions of this novel are very dark, but I can say that I have been there.  I went through that.  It had nothing to do with race, but more with my place in society, living in a mobile home park with a divorced mother who worked very hard to make ends meet.  Living with the memories of my dad as an angry alcoholic and later, talking with him on the phone, a converted stranger trying to get to know me as a sober dad, long-distance.  I never felt college was really within reach until my dad made it clear to me in 12th grade that I really needed to try it, and that he would help.  There were dark days where I trusted no one, lots of awkward social experiences,  days I had lunch alone (before I remembered to take a book everywhere), and bright days when I earned an A in College Algebra because I studied three hours the night before.  When I read of Myers’ dark days, I feel it.  There were times, as a teen, when I was cutting, thinking of suicide, or partying with other lost teens.  It is such a soul-searching venture to dig deeply into this novel.  It also makes me relive some of my son’s teen angst years, all of which is fodder for an entirely separate entry or story.

And then it is time to come back above water.  I know how it ends.  Myers finds his identity and place as a writer.  I am, as an adult, of the mindset that believes there is always hope.  I’ve found my place in society, and I’ve used the dark moments of my life to fuel my writing.  I am still emerging as a writer.  Maybe I’m a fledgling.  I don’t think I’ll ever rest on my laurels.  This makes me feel young, and I pray, pray, pray with all my might that my mental capacities will allow me to spin tales for years to come.

This is what’s on my mind lately.  What’s on yours?

 

Advertisement
%d bloggers like this: