I consider myself a writer too--something entirely different from one who writes, despite the dictionary definition. Illogical, but probably makes sense to others similarly, shall I say, afflicted.
As for what I write currently, aside from papers for class, its mostly poetry just because lately I always seem to be running around and I can jot my work down on the back of various scraps of paper I may have. I'm published a bit locally, but nothing major on a national level. The lit. mag where I go to school is rumored to be nationally distributed, and probably among the writing set it is, but as far as someone being able to find it in a chain bookstore, especially one outside of SLC, the chance is pretty much nil. I've written one a half one act plays and I'm trying to find someone to produce them, but again no dice yet. I have an acquaintance from high school who runs a theater company. I submitted it to a short play competition he was running, but it didn't get chosen. I'd like to call him up and ask him why, but I'm sure he's got better things to do than deal with neurotic wanna-be playwrights. I've done some short fiction, but not much. Part of this is hampered by the fact that I mostly write sci-fi fantasy/ magical realism kind of stuff, and the academic types look down on it. I agree with them that it's easy to do wrong, but I've read plenty of horrible, "literary" fiction,too. On the other hand you write a good genre story the same way you write anything else. I like to say that my characters also deal with relationship problems and all that good stuff, it's just that they happen to have a minor dragon infestation
I blame my current block on my previous job, it was horrible and took too much out of me, plus I lost faith in humanity for a while.
What's odd is that in high school, while I did write--realatively well they say-- I was not going to do this for a living. Not that I wasn't going to write, but I was going to have a nice, normal, respectable job that paid regularly and well. After all William Carlos Williams--one of my favorite poets--was a practicing physician for most of his life. Now most of the people who I knew back then who wrote--quite a few of whom were quite a bit better than I am I'm afraid--have grown up and become normal, functioning people. I'm the poor schmuck who realized she had a calling and couldn't do anything else. Proof, among other things, that someone up there must have a wicked sense of humor
If you asked me if I would do it again, even when I'm feeling ultra-cynical--more often than I'd like to admit lately--I'd have to say yes, but it sure isn't easy. I heard an actor say about acting, that if you can do anything else do it. I'd have to say the same, but through my experience and that of others I'd have to say that if it calls to you, you've got to go with it because no matter how hard you press it down, it'll keep nagging at you until you give in. Mostly, I'm in the dues paying phase at the moment. Essentially, I'm just sending things out trying to get people to recognize my name and realize that I can be counted on to produce good stuff.
My schooling right now is to become a technical writer, although really it's just so I can make money to support myself. I've decided that maybe my skill as a creative writer may be able to bring some functional grace to the tech writing world. Some days I think it's a good idea, other days I'm quite sure it's not, but even those close to me are reminding me that I can't go to school forever, so I guess I'll be sticking with that for a while. I did hear however that a local community college will take the degree I'm working toward as qualification to teach writing there. That sounds a bit more attractive to me sometimes.
Sick as it sounds, I'd like to get an MFA (Masters of Fine Arts) and eventually a PhD in creative writing one of these days, but I'm less focused on that than I used to be.
That came about through a huge, forced reality adjustment. At the end of the next to last quarter of my senior year in university, I was so excited, my writing--I felt--was going pretty well. I'd had some local recognition and had people be suprised that I was only an undergrad. I had been told that the school I wanted to get into was hard to get into, but with the luck I'd had lately I wasn't worried. I went on a short vacation, stoked about how I only had one more quarter to go and how wonderful it would be to focus my studies almost exclusively on my writing. I got back and a day later, the first day of my last quarter, the rejection letter showed up. Cue complete shock and dejection. Of course I'd saved all the classes that I wasn't looking forward to for that last quarter thinking that the visions of good stuff ahead would carry me through. Add that this was a few weeks before my birthday. I must say, that was not a particularly happy birthday. My spirits rose a little over the course of the term and I found out that I wasn't rejected for utter lack of talent. I resolved to take a year off, hey maybe a rest after continuous schooling for about 16 years would be a good thing, and apply again. Unfortunately, I was rejected again. This time the answer was there were moments, but I wasn't quite there, they were looking for more maturity. I was even more depressed that time. I never thought this was going to be easy, but somehow I thought that I'd at least have some support from "my own". I finally decided that I was making myself crazy. I would definintely not apply the next year, nor would I force myself to write. I needed to get rid of the anxiety and all the voices in my head--editors, instructors, etc.--and get back to writing for me, then the quality would, with luck, come back. That was about three years ago, and my output hasn't been stellar--I wonder sometimes if going for tech. writing was the equivalent of selling my birthright for a mess of pottage--I worry that I've sabotaged myself. However, I did realize that originally why I wanted an advanced degree was so that I could become a professor and thus earn a living. Once I finish this program, I should be able to do that, and while I'd like all the training I can get, there is no degree required to become a writer. For a long time it scared me that maybe I'd never manage to write anything decent again, but I think that was something I needed to face, and I may actually be healing in that respect. I'm sorry I went on so long, writing is intensely spiritual to me and I'm always looking for sympathy and reassurance, no you don't have to give me any BTW. I know I'm needy and I try to deal with it.
Whew, I hope that made some kind of sense. Anyway, maybe I'll put some stuff on here at some point. Although I don't have anything fencing related at this time.
Thanks for listening.
BTW on the subject of the difficulty of writing, I've always like a quote of Jessamyn West's "Writing is so difficult that I often feel that writers, having had their hell on earth will escape all punishment hereafter". Well, I sincerely hope so.
[ 10-30-2001: Message edited by: Catlady ]
Well, that does indeed seem to ring true for the writers I've known. While the bug died down for me --- unlike for you, which sounds more like it's jumped up and taken you by the ear -- I know it will come back to grab me one day.
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