Below you will find my contribution to the Beginnings Blogfest, courtesy of L.G. Keltner over at
Writing Off the Edge.
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| http://banoosh.com/2012/08/10/life-is-about-creating-yourself/ |
I didn’t grow up with visions ofbest seller lists dancing in my head. I had a wild imagination, but never madethe connections to becoming a writer. So it was quite the surprise to me when Ifinished the first three chapters of Iron Thirst (which was once IronObsession).
When I turned thirty, I startedtrying to “find” myself. Asking questions like – what is my purpose? Maybe itwas a third-life crisis (as opposed to mid-life, hope to make it past 60!),maybe it was the question of legacy – I don’t know. All I knew was that Ineeded answers.
I turned to God, and asked him.“Lord, I’ve been thinking. Trying to figure out the gifts that you gave me, andwhat you want me to use them for. Not to be rude, but I’m coming up short. I’mnot questioning you – ok, maybe a little. You seemed to be in a silly mood theday you picked my skills, because you put together some very odd choices andsome that I’m not sure that I could ever use in the real world.”
Here’s what I knew. I am an avidpeople-watcher. I enjoy watching how people relate to one another. I canbe rather silly. I love to look at the world in new and unique ways, and pointthose out to others. I am empathetic to the point of ridiculousness. Seriously,why do I cry at cotton commercials? And with that comes the ability to putmyself in other people’s shoes. My imagination is a tad bit out of control (nomeds please). What “job” in this world could use these skills?? (If you knowthe answer, shh, don’t tell. She ain’t figured it out yet. That’s coming.)
So, off I went on my journey to“find” myself. Who would have thought that a kick-ass store in Decatur wouldhave the answer hanging on a wall? (Heliotrope, for the locals.) I walked inbrowsing, just killing time. Up on the wall was a print with the words thatwould slap me in the forehead. “Life is not about finding yourself. Life isabout CREATING yourself.” “Hmmm,” was all I could say. I wanted thosewords. I wanted them tattooed on my backside, but knowing that I would want theworld to know them too – I decided against that. Running around mooning peopleis not my style.
One morning, I sat up in the bed andlooked at my doting husband and said, "Wouldn't it be cool if someonewrote a story about DragonCon? You know, playing on the idea that some of thefantasy exists there was actually real?" And instead of saying -"Woman, you're nuts!” he said, "That is a pretty cool idea."
I continued getting dressed and let the idea dance around a little more insidemy head. By the time I arrived at the office, I had pretty much laid out theoutline for the first chapter minus character names. When I arrived home thatafternoon, I read him chapter one. And so the journey began.
While working full time, going to school full time, and still being a prettydecent mother (who am I kidding, I rock!), I wrote the bulk of the novel inabout 4 months. The idea became much more than a book about DragonCon and morea love story that was plagued with obstacles while maintaining a humorous tone.My logic - laugh or the world will kill you. And in this story, oh does it try.
I had taken the message to heart. Notonly was I creating myself – I was creating other wonderful people and a worldfor them to live in. Their lives existed from my typing. The battles they facedrequired me to save them. They needed me, and I needed them. All that goofystuff, those unusable skills were suddenly so clear as to why I possessed them.And I’ve never felt closer to God than when I am writing.
I was very hush, hush about mywriting in the beginning. My husband knew what was going on. He watched mewrite, but beyond him, I didn’t tell a soul. I hid behind my keyboard at night– my dirty little secret. I was terrified that if I said it out loud itwould stop. Or worse, people would think I flipped my skull. I mean – it wasjust a phase, right? Like marathon running, painting, or interpretive dance (ok– never did the last one, just making sure that you are paying attention.)
But it didn’t stop. I continued towrite, keeping my new passion hidden from the world. When I realized that thiswas more than just a fun past time – that it was a dream – I knew I would haveto go public. Come out of the writing closet. The book was nearly finished. Iwas halfway through act three. I made the leap and mentioned it to a friend atwork, and waited for the look. You know- THAT look, one eyebrow up, smirk,switch to dead-pan, “Oh, that’s nice.”
But it didn’t come. She was proud,excited, curious. Ok. Let’s try again. New person. This one haddreams of being a writer and never made the leap. He had tons of questions ofhow to get started. And as I continuedto share, I found more and more people who wanted to write, but didn’t knowwhere to start. So the blog was born.
So, three beginnings in one –how Ilearned I loved to write, how Iron Thirst came to fruition, and why the blogwas born.
So,tell me. How about you? Did you always want to be a writer? If you blog, whatmade you start? Did a character appear in the night, or did you mold them outof clay-slow and steady?
