Righting Fragments

This is a blog about writing. You have been warned.

As a writer, and I do consider myself a writer - it's in my job title, I have had one ever present concern in regard to my particular style; should I right my fragments? I write a lot of fragments. Microsoft Word informs me of this ALL DAY at work and also when I am busy plucking away at my sad, old laptop at home. I revise at work. I ignore that stupid paperclip at home. I write like I talk. This may mean I am honest. This may mean I am lazy. Whatever it means is unimportant since that is how it is. I talk in fragments. Not always. But often. Most days I feel justified and call it "style." Other days I feel inadequate and get the irrational fear that my work will never be taken seriously because of the fragments! Oh, no! It's called overanalyzing. But I like the subtitle "Righting Fragments" for my writing specific posts. It says loud and clear all that I feel writing is, both in poetry and practice.

I am not an English Lit major. Not because I don't love literature but because I am not the kind of person who can tear apart something I love and give it technical names; reducing it to basic functions. That just saps all the joy out of reading and writing for me. I am in no way implying that any of the many lit/writing majors I know (Jenny, Ash, Nikki, Aly-bug) are less in love with reading and writing because of their academic proclivities. I am merely stating my own personal shortcomings.I need the dreaminess of reading and writing, the intangible element of something being stirred and awakened in your soul that you can't ever quite comprehend but relish still the same. I guess I need to believe in magic, even though I logically see that magic is just illusion.

There are basically two theory's in regard to just about anything in life and they are as follows; talent is something you have to be born with or talent is something you can achieve through devotion and study. Everyone has their own idea. I am sure there are a million ways to splinter those two questions and come up with a billion responses all applying to some person or another that has found success in their chosen field. I am too old to rely on black and white any longer. But I will let you in on a little secret of mine. I am completely and wholeheartedly (and unabashedly) in the "talent is something you have to born with" camp. No matter how much I practiced I would have never been a basketball player or a top model. I have never possessed the patience to learn an instrument or to take up woodwork. When I look at an algebra book it makes me want to write a letter to Bethy or to ditch class and go to the movies. I will grant that there are variables that contributed to my dislike of such things and there are things that could have caused me to be far more successful at them. Still, I would never have excelled and that works out well because I just don't care about those things. I admire those who can accomplish them. I feel my own limited sense of ability when I list all the ways in which I am below average. And then... I move on with my life because my life is reading and writing and reading and writing and reading and writing. Constantly and always; with dizzying joy and exhilaration.

I am not saying that you can't achieve SUCCESS without being naturally talented. Look at Danielle Steel and Nicholas Sparks. Absolute drivel on both parts. Sorry, I do not mean to offend and I do understand that there is an easy appeal to these authors books, but I don't think anyone can honestly say that they think either is the height of literary achievement and enlightenment. At least no one I associate with. There are plenty of writers who are good because of study and hard work and whose writing I enjoy. I would say a majority of writers fall into this category. But to reach the pinnacle of writing requires more than a large vocabulary and an encyclopedic memory for grammar. There has to be that something inside of you that pulls you forward. That element that you cannot control or understand but propels you regardless.

Yes, most days I believe that I am in the "born with it" echelon. I have days of doubt. I fully accept that everyone thinks they are in the "born with it" category or at least clings to the hope. I have reasons to believe this about myself and they sustain me and make it possible for me to write this without feeling as if I am boasting of something I can't back up. I am not good at many things. I wanted to be a singer, a real singer - not a pop bimbo ala Britney Spears, and I practiced and practiced for years and years. I trained my voice to do some amazing vocal backflips. I was very good. And I knew that it wasn't enough. I knew that pursuing it would only strip me of the joy I found in singing because I wasn't in the category that made that talent fluid for me. I decided it wasn't worth it. Some people decide it is. I actually despised my writing ability for a long time because it wasn't singing. But, do you know what? I wrote hundreds of songs in that timeframe. And once I accepted that I wasn't going to make it as a singer I realized that the connective fabric between that dream and the one that had always laid dormant was the writing. I had never actually stopped.

I don't mean to say I will be the next Tolstoy. I will never be that smart. I believe that the greats like Tolstoy, Nabokov, Dickens (whom I don't care for but I do recognize his genius), Philip Roth and Eggers (okay, the last two are new-ish greats but trust me) are naturally brimming with talent and also have found a way to tap into that talent with an eye attuned toward the study of what makes a story amazing. Like I said, I am too dreamy-mist-faraway for that level of exactness and my work will never reach the same heights as theirs because, lets face it, mist floats and swirls above the ground and can be entrancing and beautiful but it doesn't really encompass the entire sky. And I am okay with that.

I think honesty is another essential element in writing and happiness. Once I stopped lamenting my inability to recreate the complexities of Shakespeare and the terse truth of Hemingway I realized that there is always room in the writing world for a an old-fashioned great story. A good yarn, if you will. You have probably heard the saying, "write what you know." This is something that I took quite literally for a long time and it stumped me and brewed a writer's block that caused me to consider taking up being a radiology technician as a profession. It would be more steady work and more reliable than counting on my lazy and self-pitying brain. Then it dawned on me, the way it probably dawned on everyone else the first time they heard it, somethings are known with your heart. Yes, that sounds trite but oh, well. It is true.

I know despair and anguish. I know guilt and torment. I know rage and blind hatred. I know what the need for vengeance tastes like on the tip of my tongue, how it burns behind your eyes and pools in the blackest parts of your brain. I know what it is to wish for nothingness to release you from the overwhelming something-ness of your life. I also know love. I know fierce and unrelenting loyalty. I know what it is roar with the strength of a lioness when someone you share a piece of your soul with is in danger. I know what it is to choose someone over yourself, to allow your own worth to be diminished to not lessen theirs. I know what it is to reach across the chasm of invisible space and air to hope for a stranger and feel that connective tug the universe has on us all.

These are the things that matter to me. These are the things I know and attempt to give shape through characters and relationships and plots that might seem a bit wacky but are really just symbolic (in a very undefined way, mind you) of the experience of life in all it's exquisite beauty and all it's damning pain.

This, unfortunately, only scratches the surface of all the thoughts that are reeling in my head. But my back is hurting and I must retreat, for now. Hey, the blog is called Manipulated Ink, what do you expect me to pontificate on?

Next "Righting Fragments" Topic: How-To-Books and How to Read Them.