It’s hard being judged. No matter whether it’s for your gender, your age, your body or any other surface aspect, knowing someone is looking at the outside of you and making determinations about what’s on the inside is discouraging, to say the least.
People are like icebergs. We only see the tip and unless we take the time, we never know about the hidden depths below the surface. It’s easy, and lazy, to look at someone and determine their intelligence, their creativity, their life skills and their worth by an outer inspection, or even a casual glance. Such neglect robs the viewer of the surprise of true character.
This is even more apparent for a writer. Characters need layers as much as they require physical descriptions. There should be hidden depths that add spark to the story and make the reader long for more. I would caution those who wish to hone their writing skills with an admonition: if you are depending on the surface to tell you about the inner person, then likely you are writing stereotypes and not real characters. Be careful you don’t judge away the best part of your story.
Sometimes I believe there is always a way…sometimes I wish the door would close forever. Life is a complication of choices, death a clear-cut selection.
Sometimes I think now is as good a time as any…sometimes I think yesterday was easier, it held more promise, perhaps more delusion. The truth lives more in today, taking hope in its own direction.
Sometimes there are no answers…sometimes there are no questions, simply facts. I am responsible for me, no one else, even if no one recognizes me anymore.
At this point in my life, no one seeks my heart with the intensity of a lover. Many are in my heart, but they arrived there by default or have been there so long they don’t notice its walls surrounds them anymore.
I realize day by day my heart has become a city that others inhabit but no one owns…or wants to own, at least not more than a small piece of it.
(A rainbow-colored, glittery one at that)
I love parades. Apparently so do lots of others. Like the folks here watching the parade I went to on Saturday. I like to get out from behind my computer every once in a while, to see the “real” world so I can create realistic, “normal” characters. Just a good writing skill I’ve learned.
“I’m sitting here, all my worldly, and some not so worldly, possessions packed away in a 10×20 shed, wondering what the next step in my life will be. I’m an unemployed writer/historian/filmmaker and a mother/grandmother whose children have been supportive enough not to force me into a home when I told them what I planned. I own a car that is virtually theft-proof because it looks like one the Beverly Hillbillies would have turned their nose up at, and a dog that likes to throw things. So what’s the obvious next step for a woman like me?”
I wrote these words over three years ago. Believe me, the next step wasn’t obvious in the least. My hope was to write the next great “Woman on a Journey of Self-Discovery” bestseller. Turns out my new life was less of “Under the Tuscan Sun” and more of “In the Glow of the Wal-Mart Sign”. Still, it’s had its moments. So now I’m taking computer keyboard in hand and sharing life’s craziness. The first step is learning how to put together this space. In case you can’t tell (in which case you are worse off then I am), I’m winging it. Hopefully the visuals will get better with time. If you’re up to it, come and join me. Trust me, it’ll be fun…