Omnibus in foro S.P.D.
Fear is an emotion that I don’t always display but I often feel. I have this strong tendency to don a *Hero’s* mask. Because superhero’s feel nothing they make sure their adversaries do however. Yesterday I got hit with some “Kryptonite” yesterday, it left me feeling rather helpless actually. What every writer has dancing around in the back of their heads but it’s never really uttered out loud. Ever thought “If anyone is really reading your stuff?” well that fear got confirmed yesterday rather haphazardly and unintentionally by a friend on the ye old FB page. It’s common knowledge within my inner circle I have a blog, that I am writing my first-ever Fantasy novel, and that I write oodles of poetry. I post links to just about everything I write, I mean here I am wondering if I may post too much about it. On the contrary obviously I don’t post enough about what I do on spare time.
Yesterday I was going to break one of the cardinal rules of writing. I was going to stop writing completely. Yes that’s right throw away my bardic quill and try some suburban gig of existence. Something called fear crawled up my womb and gave birth to many little monsters. I never felt so emotionally paralyzed but there I was yesterday completely unable to have a rational thought process after coming to a tragic conclusion. What if all this time and after countless years that no one has bothered to read my work? Have I been donning some Jester’s hat all this time? Has the joke really been on me?
You see Boys & Girls, Madams & Gents, Cool Cats & even Cooler Kittens. (pick a variance) I am a writer. I am a single candle among all the other candles. There are different colors, shapes, sizes, and daresay molds. My voice is a single flame and I want it to reach the masses, I want my flame to rise above, so that it can be seen. So that my voice can be heard whether it be blog, novel, poem, or if intoxicated and I feel like doing a limerick. I want my voice by my pen the sword to be heard. What writer doesn’t? So the very concept of what seems that even friends are not paying attention. Yeah its a gut-punch well to the gut. No other way to describe it.
So after hours of seething and self-loathing. I pulled up my big-girl britches and realized I like what I do. As a writer I have chosen to display myself to tough crowds. If they don’t understand or want to know my “voice” then that is up to them. I cannot simply find the “off-switch” and stop doing this. But a snake can shed its skin for a brighter skin one that’s a little more tough and durable. So I’m skin-shedding and rediscovering why I have chosen to do this. The writing will continue meanwhile.
My single flame is still burning perhaps evermore brightly 🙂
Serpentine Tragedienne (Bone Mamma Belle)