(Inspired by my favorite facebook writer…may you never know your name)
The word I’m going to use here may look dramatic, but maybe by unpacking it it’ll become more of a catalyst than a dead end. By fleshing it out maybe it’ll become more human than not. More approachable than avoid-slash-ignore-at-all-costs.
So here’s the word.
Jealous. Jealous of you, friend. Jealous of the beautiful words and shiny gems polished and refracting light in ways I never thought to cut them before.
Jealous of the accolades. The wisdom. The certainty. Jealous of the originality, the uniqueness, the point of view.
Not just you and your words.
Jealous, also, of an old classmate. Two books now. Well done. No seriously, really well done. Heaping loads of accolades on you. Pushing all the love your way. And don’t take it the wrong way if I don’t read either story…yet. Take it as a promise that when I’m ready, when I’ve satisfied my own writing voice, I will be there to enjoy every meaty word and well thought out piece of groundwork. You’ll deserve every bit.
Also, jealous of a younger acquaintance. Pursuing a step in her education I hadn’t. Becoming knowledgeable and probably crazy, exhausted by terminology and insight into plot devices and narrator voice and theories of place and real people. Really real people.
Honesty. Honesty. Honesty. The word keeps banging around in my head.
Honesty. I fight it. Truth. I quail before it.
But by keeping it locked up, by keeping it hidden and safe, what has that gotten me? I can tell you: jealous, undeveloped, unchallenged, frustrated, awkwardly indignant now.
So, here I am. Because of you friend. Because I’m feeling inspired. Desperation has catalyzed this into action, no matter how vulnerable, no matter how likely embarrassing it will seem in the future as I gaze down on it from some other comfortable place.
Every day the same sentiment, echoing for weeks. Or has it been years? Write what you know. Write what you don’t know too, but for sure as hell, write what you do. So I will. Honesty and truthfulness? Let’s shake hands on it. And here I’ve chosen my awkwardly public medium.
a snippet, a piece of glass,
cutting out the images of my day.
All will not live to be read through other people’s glasses.
Some will only live in the fog of my computer screen.
But day to day, I will snippet, and I will show you through growing this voice. I will find my rhythm. I will create instead of stagnate. Most of all, I will show me that I can. This point of view. Mine. I recognize how important it is for me now to do more than ever.
So, let’s take this as the pre-ramble. My voice. Sometimes inspired, yes. But never copied. No. Especially talented? Nah. Honest, yes. To a fault. To myself. Because this must be the only way to achieve transcendence. Satisfaction. Ease with myself.