God help those of us who have chosen the life of the writer or author! We carry an affliction that permeates our genetic structure. No matter how persistent we are in fighting the coding within our DNA; we are cursed with the malady of possessing a “writer’s mind!” We are not the benefactors of a well-endowed research organization racing to find a cure before it is too late! Simply stated, we are terminal and possess an irreversible condition that will plague the rest of our lives!
We come from a proud heritage; those of us who elect to pick up the quill and parchment. Before there was the written language, we were the oral storytellers. We recited the great sagas of the past, embellishing them as we saw fit. We recounted epic battles and tender stories of undying love! Succinctly put, we were the keepers of history and memory.
Written language was our first liberation. Now we could record our stories for future generations to share. Unfortunately, we often found ourselves carving the accomplishments of our rulers into stone memorials. Then came the invention of the printing press, and we found ourselves further liberated! Now we could write our stories and have them mass-produced for the world to read. Sadly, there were very few people who could read and the cost of a book was astronomical.
In the modern age, we evolved into a reading public with a voracious appetite. Writers reveled in the streets; that is, until they had to deal with editors and agents. It seemed that there was a group out there who felt they could better represent our words and stories. They altered our works in the name of the “commercial appeal” Gods! Fast forward to the year 2011 and we have once again been freed by blogging and print on demand publishing. At last, the authors and writers have reclaimed the rights bestowed upon them in the early days of simple storytelling!
As a writer, I have an inbred ability to detect the most minor details and nuances. I then take those observations and weave a story around them. It is not a conscious choice, but rather what my genetics compel me to do! I pity the poor elderly woman seated in the booth behind me at the pancake house! By the time I have finished, she is a former cold war spy from Russia who turned double agent. She was given a new identity by the CIA, moved to Colorado Springs, and spends her remaining days in a Victorian house with her three cats and a mental scrapbook of memories!
I study my dog and get an idea for an inspirational book. My fingers fly across the keyboard as I paint the canvas of a blank computer screen! I will overlay the behavior and values of a hound dog onto the way human beings should treat each other. Eureka, another best seller is now in the making! Just heard an obscure piece of sports trivia? Hey, I am off researching sports facts for yet another book!
I wake up each morning with a half-dozen ideas for new projects. I go to sleep each night outlining those projects! I never find the time to work on all of these brainstorms and they nag away at me every waking hour! Therein lies the curse of the writer’s mind!
Do I wish I could renounce this illness that possesses me? Am I anxiously awaiting the cure of what controls my mind? Am I compelled to despise the genetic roulette wheel that fated me to be a writer? Hardly! I have been blessed with a passion for my work that few others will ever know! I have harnessed something that completes me as a human being; the gift of being able to create!