The setting for this recent conversation may sound stereotypical but I was drinking coffee at a Borders cafe this past Saturday when small talk between another customer and I brought up some interesting tidbits.
We had quite a snowstorm Saturday and many people were just glad to be inside where it was warm rather than on the roads. Although one person joked that you couldn’t pick a better place than a bookstore to get snowed in.
During the obligatory comments about the weather that start all conversations between strangers, she noticed the Writers’ Digest magazine I was reading. She asked me what I did for a living and I explained that after spending the better part of a decade in behavioral health I was now trying to make it as a writer and trying non-successfully to avoid the fact that in these economic times I was broke and working at a Wendy’s just to try to survive.
After a brief resumé of my accomplishments so far she asked why I decided to write. Sure I’d love to make money doing this, that’s part of the big picture. But overall I just wanted to get the stuff that’s been in my head for years out into the world and share it with others. To make my mark as it were. We all have our own unique and interesting story to tell and I’m no different.
She sadly quipped that she wished she could write, but that she had no talent for it. This made me laugh and she felt like I was making fun of her but I had to explain that I have made similar comments to my friend Matt who is an extremely talented artist. I would go on about how I wish I could draw- as I’m barely able to scribble a stick figure that looks more like limp spaghetti. He said that anyone can draw, you just have to have time, patience, and practice.
I clarified that it’s the same thing with the written word. If you can form a coherent thought than you’re half way; if you can write that thought down on a piece of paper- then by George you can write a novel!
I assured her that the words don’t always come easy, in fact, as any writer can tell you, most of the time they don’t come at all. I’ve spent days staring a blank screen. Whether it’s the first idea for a story, a character development, or plotline, I can agonize for hours until I can’t take any more and plop down in front of the TV in defeat.
I offered this analogy: Trying to write is like a child playing with alphabet soup. The letters and words are all messed up and it takes concentration and a lot of time to find the proper order for them. The key is to do this before the soup gets too cold. Of course, by that time most children have moved on to their next distraction.
I have a bad habit of starting one thing and then in a flash of inspiration I’ll have another idea for something and the first project is forgotten about until I go back and can’t remember where my train of thought was taking me.
She asked me if I thought I would make it to the big leagues as an author and I said that a beautiful spring flower comes as the end result of mud and melting snow; so narcissism can grow from delusion. Yeah, I said, I think I’ll make it!
Of course, along the way I’ll be eating a lot of cold alphabet soup.
© 2009 R. Wolf Baldassarro/Deep Forest Productions
