Mama, I Am Going to Be A Writer
All my life there was this feeling that I need to tell stories. Not just the stories I curate myself but pass down the ones I hear from my favorite authors, films, and television shows. I am going after something I never thought I would have the courage to. I am slowly letting go of the fear that the work I will produce is never going to be good enough. It might not be, but I just have to do it. If not, I will never get better and seize the opportunity to grow as an artist.
Hmm, an artist?
I have always wanted to call myself one. Honestly, my Sims career is a writer and she’s making bank and doing more than I ever did. She is totally killing it and I give her props!
I realize that I do not need to wait for someone to tell me what I am, or what lifestyle I can or cannot build for myself. I took advice and courage from countless essays on Medium and books on how to become a writer. From Writer’s Digest (still, have them bookmarked) to the numerous mommy blogs on how to become a freelance writer. I’ve looked through practically everything! All of the articles have the common advice of just find something that you are passionate about and write! No one will put these ideas into your head but you, so why not?
Go ahead, girl and write!
I know that this will not be all sunshine and rainbows and that writing is a process that is not complete magic. I am here to learn from the best and grow in this craft.
The pressing desire to learn more about writing came a couple of months ago. My little sister called me into her room and asked me to read her a story. The introduction came from a book she had to take a quiz on before class the next day… She suckered me in because she knew I am a dork for reading! Dammit, me and unwavering love of reading! I continued to read to her, and I became intrigued with the woman telling her story about the solitude and finding her independence as a writer. I could see her. She told us how she had a writer’s space or what she thought was a writer’s space. She wrote, “she’d been taught that a writer needs quiet, privacy, and long stretches of solitude to think.” “A House of My Own,” is the name of Sandra Cisneros’ introduction to The House on Mango Street and it resonated with me. I felt happy and warm when I read this. I kept on telling my sister that this is the way it should be. My path will not be the same Sandra’s of course, but I do want that space of my own. I spend the majority of my time in solitude and quiet anyway, but I want privacy too. In my time of solitude, I usually never write. I just binge-watch the same television shows in a never-ending loop. I have grown tired of incessantly watching these shows that keep me in a comfort and stunt my growth, but the fear of sucking at writing kept me locked in.
My fears of writing stem from pending rejection from how others will perceive my work. When writing I feel like there is this wall, a brick wall. I try to chip away at it sometimes. At times I don’t try to break it down or even climb over it. I just kind of stare at it. Hopefully, it moves. Until then, I’ll just stay here. Sometimes I am not the best at taking constructive criticism. It has been about two months since I have typed this up and go back to it every now and then. I look at it and then I dissect it. I think, “Does this make sense?” “Nope, they are definitely not going to like that!” “Why in the hell would anyone even care to read this!” “Why am I even doing this?” Those self-doubt demons rip in every part of my mind every time I type a word. My sister has looked at it and I took all of her edits and critiques. As soon as she gave me the revision all marked in red and I screamed and ran away from my computer. Then proceeded to distract myself by watching Dharma and Greg. Can I really do this whole writing thing?
My intrigue for writing started back in the fifth grade, my class had a substitute teacher. I cannot for the life of me remember his name, but I will always remember him as a shiny, younger version of Adam Shankman. I wrote this stupid story about this sci-fi version of Family Guy. This was a couple of years before “It’s a Trap,” it was so weird I really can’t put my finger on it. I wrote that story instead of doing my school work and it about 10 pages front to back. I thought he was the coolest person ever, and he seemed really supportive after I screamed in his face to read my bomb ass Family Guy science fiction. So, I ripped it out of a golden reflective notebook, stapled and handed it to him. He read it for like 20 seconds and put it on the corner of his desk, I don’t think he could get past the scribbles and chicken scratch, but he tried. I asked him how it was, and he let out the most pained smile, but I thought he loved it. So, I took it for a win. I never saw him again after that day, hopefully, he still thinks about it to this day. I loved writing stories that made sense to no one else but me. Nowadays I do not really write fiction, my passion is more geared towards films both critical and aesthetic, sociology, philosophy and beyond. Whatever floats my boat!
My first year of college I took an 8-week English class with a load of assignments due every week. I thought it would be easy peasy. I am an excellent student so I thought I could handle it. The first assignment I completely bombed. Before I took the class, I heard that the instructor was a hard ass. It sounded like a challenge and I was up for it. It got bad, really bad. Even people I thought who would not be doing great so well, excelled. I was complacent back then. The next assignment was an annotated bibliography. What in the actual hell was that! Never in the North Carolina Public school system was that ever part of the curriculum growing up. But I did research and she gave us an example of what it should look like. Okay! I got it down this should be cake. The following week I get an email from her telling me to come to her office. As soon as I sit down, she pulls out my fully marked bibliography. I should’ve just printed all 7 pages on red paper to make it easier on her. It was Kill Bill all over my paper! I will never forget what she told me, “Listen, Alissa, you’re an amazing student. You can take notes, pay attention, and ask great questions. But you’re writing is not that great. It needs work. This does not make any sense.” Balls busted and my complete fear of writing was established. She advised I drop the class and go for a long semester and not have her as an instructor. I contemplated and thought that I could push through. Looking at was to come for the next assignment, I dropped that class in a heartbeat. I never wrote for leisure for quite sometime after that and writing assignments for my later classes were tough to get through. Until my junior year came around.
The new wave of writing for me really hit with an aesthetic analysis paper I wrote for my Media Literacy class this past semester. Before I signed up for the class, I knew that an assignment was going to be to choose a film and write an analysis about it and I was over the moon, so I chose American Psycho. It is my favorite Christian Bale film and Patrick Bateman will forever give me the chills. The Adventures of Pluto Nash was also in the mix if I was thinking classics. Throughout the semester, Professor Barrionuevo taught us how to watch films and analyze the plot, how aesthetics can make or break a film, techniques, lighting, color, sound, camera perspectives, etc. That class had a profound effect on me, definitely one of my favorite classes that I have ever taken in my college career. It’s completely changed the trajectory of my life. Going back to the paper, I spent weeks trying to formulate a proper argumentative thesis and going to his office hours that he offered. I was watching the film over and over again to make sure I understood the use of the aesthetics properly. I used the book to help me find a deeper understanding of his emotional connection to Huey Lewis and The News and why he had this relentless need to kill. Near the midst of November, I figured it out and edited my paper to oblivion, confirmed my research and turned it in. It was best I had felt after completing an assignment! During the semester I had breakdowns, I was lost and felt I had nothing to contribute and that my work would always be mediocre or worse. The grade I received a week later relieved all of that doubt and reaffirmed my hard work and love for academics and film.
I ran into him a couple of days later and asked him his thoughts on my paper. He told me he really enjoyed it and I could not believe it! I then expressed to my newfound passion and urge to continue to learn more at graduate school. I began researching them and getting serious. I’ve been looking at Creative Writing or Documentary Film programs all across the country to help me to get to where I want my work to be. I just want to learn more and create beautiful and meaningful work, and travel. I have never been more secure in the fact that I was meant to do this. I will work and write as much as my heart can! I have not produced much work, but this is my beginning to a likely eclectic portfolio.
I do not know if anyone will read this if so, thank you! This was the hardest thing I ever had to do, I am breaking down that wall. Little by little… Here I go!
