Wednesday, November 25, 2009


It's been difficult motivating myself to write these past few months (read: year).

And it's incredibly unmotivating not to be able to write why.

On the inside cover of a Jodi Piccoult book (my current favorite author), she has written that her family life is so boring and uneventful she doesn't/can't draw story ideas from them.

My life is the opposite. There are too many incredibly "real life" events affecting me, my only option is to "fictionalize" these experiences as a form of expression and release. And I can only do that in the creative writing course I'm currently taking.

The creative writing class I'm in is a work shopping type of class. All the students submit "stories" and everyone in the class critiques the writing for grammar, plot, story arc, etc. Both full stories I've submitted are an attempt at putting to paper my real life experiences because I can't write or express myself in any other way.

What is challenging and ironic is how other students will comment on my "story" as not being authentic or believable--which clearly is not the case. There is a staggering difference of ages in the class, and I would say most if not all of these students don't have enough life experience to appreciate what I might be writing about.

I suppose I should be grateful for some form of expression, as other than the occasional therapy, I'm stuck internalizing everything that is happening to me.

I'm not even journaling anymore--couldn't tell you where my current few journals are (I keep more than one).

I know to a certain degree I should just "get over it", but that's always easier said than done. When you're in a rut of a large magnitude, it's hard to see your way out.