Today I tried to write. Today, once more, I failed. So I turned to Google. (FYI, I love Google! Honestly, I am addicted to Google, when I’m bored or blocked it is Google I turn to, or Merraim Webster:) They are faithful helpers…)
So, anyway, today, when I was trying to write and feeling blocked, over-whelmingly so, I typed in a search : ‘figuring out my writing’ and this is what I found…
…a WONDERFUL piece about finding your writing voice. It has awesome excercises to help discover/develop your writing voice. For example…the excercise I chose to do first was :
“Write a love letter. Pretend that you’ve been twelve days at sea (or in prison), and you think you might never see your loved one again. Let this one go and pour yourself onto the page – I guarantee your true writing voice will show up somewhere around word 437. (Either that or you’ll have started your first epic novel. Win either way.)”
I ended up writing roughly 740 words.
Which I will now copy and paste below…Note: I should warn you all that this is like a oneshot, I wrote off the top of my head and have done NO editing. Still, constructive criticism is welcome.
It has been twelve days and I’m starting to believe that I might never see you again. But how could that be a problem? It wouldn’t had I taken the opportunities that have come my way over the past several months. Had I said what I felt, without fear, or restraint, without trying to be coy and desirable, there would be a great deal less difficulty in my life ending now, this far away from you. But I haven’t said the words, those that now stretch and pound in my heart, threatening to burst it. I have wasted so much time. I am drowning in a sea of regret.
The blue of this ocean reminds me of your eyes. The hues changing with the weather and time. Much like your own oceans of blue grey. I love your eyes. That is one of the things I have wanted to say. I love the sound of your voice, that is another. Here in this dingy, the lapping of waves has desensitized me, and the only thing I can hear are the sounds of my memories and that of my dreams. Dreams and memories of you, dreams of the memories I could have made with you. If I could just have that time back, I would change so much. I would have not been so worried and embarrassed, I would not have let those insignificant circumstances come in between us. Perhaps then you would have known you could trust me enough. Perhaps, if you had known how I loved you, you would have loved me in return.
There, I have said it. I love you. Without logical reasoning, cause, without cumbersome logic, I love you. The way you smile, smirk, the way your hair curls, the way your name tastes on my tongue, the way you say my name. The way you hide that tenderness of your heart, playing the bad boy. It is only a defense. You are much too nice, and I think that is why you have trouble sleeping sometimes. I would love to have talked you to sleep, to have spent those late hours listening to the sound of your voice over the phone, or on the sofa, in your arms…Pleasant dreams. I have spun them but never tried to weave them. I have never acted, only thought. I have thought too much and acted too late – if I have acted at all.
Can writing this confessional really be considered an act? I’m afraid that it is only a desperate attempt. I am afraid that I have lived my life motionless, fearing to move, fearing to act.
Had I been fearless, I would have grabbed you and kissed you. I would have pulled you out into the rain and danced. I would have sung my favorite songs for you to hear, laughing with you when you laughed at me. I would have written poetry on your skin. I would have…had I been fearless.
Now my fear is gone. It has drowned in this sea of awakening. But I have awakened too late. Regret is more bitter than acrid salt water. Regret is more deadly than a lungful of ocean. Had I no regrets I could have lived forever. Had I no regrets, I would have had you.
To have you…I want you to know how wonderful you are, how magical, powerful, beautiful you are. Your soul. So many have missed it, you guard it too well. But I know why, I have felt pain like yours. I never told you. I should have told you. We would have been stronger for it, both of us. We could have healed. Now, you will heal, and I will regret that I never took the chance, the medicine, the risk.
I love you. I would have been your lover. I would have been your friend. Your ally. Your own. Yours alone.
You will never be afraid. You will never have regrets. You are stronger than me. I wish that I had learned faster. I wish that I would have tried.
I would cry now, but I do not want to cry. I do not want anymore salt water. I do not want any more regrets. I will sign this letter, and then I will jump into this ocean. I will not drown any longer, I will swim. I may not make it, you might not see me. But I will try, I will take the risk. Either way, at last you will know the truth. At last you will know me.
I found this wonderfully inspirational, and even theraputic. I feel so much closer to actually having a vision for a story – at last! Something more than a vague impression and disconnected scenes bobbing like buoys in a changeful ocean…Obviously the ocean metaphor stuck :)
I hope, readers, that this is useful to you. It certainly has been to me :))
Till next time…