This poem/prose is meant to be an encouragement for those on the fence about participating in Camp Nanowrimo this April, or any Nanowrimo event for that matter. Post any questions you may have in the comments and I’ll try to answer them ASAP. I hope you enjoy! 🙂
I AM THE WRITER
By: Joshua David
I am parasitic. I feed off the world around me, absorbing sensations, breathing in sights and sounds, and consuming the possibilities and what if’s of my environment.
After I feed, I digest in quiet stillness within my mind. I could be anywhere, but not there when I digest.
I have stared at the flickering lamppost of an ominous alley or out into the glossy blue pond of upside-down trees and digested the stories within.
Then when digestion is done, I assimilate, translate, and convert this new source of energy into words. Whether on paper, or in digital universe, these words slowly begin to change into a story.
They transcend from what once was into what may yet be. The story is ever evolving into something more. Something beyond me and greater than I alone could ever be.
This cycle of intaking, processing, and pouring out is something as natural as breathing to me and it is a part of me whether I like it or not so I tend, for my own sake, to treat it as a gift.
If I want to pursue success at this gift, I must hone it into a keen skill which uplifts, enlightens, and entertains others or else I risk trapping these stories in the seclusion of my own mind and spirit.
In many ways I must become the story. I become the land and the people. I am the boy, I am the girl, I am the killer and the hero, I am the tree and the forest, the drop of rain and the waterfall.
I am the butterfly outside a cancer patient’s hospital window which brings hope, and also the tornado which rips down the protagonist’s childhood home.
I am the orphan, the outcast, the oppressed, the obscene, the vile, the wretched and corrupt.
As the story, I see over it and around it, under it and between it, but also through it; for I have crafted it and know it’s intimate makeup.
My characters depress me when they are depressed, and bring joy to me when they are elated. I am proud to have them exist within me, but prouder still when I am able to express them out into the story.
It is like breathing life into their existence, and putting their world into motion.
A writer’s words are their breath, and the story, their heartbeat. The meaning of it all is their life.
I am the writer, and so are you.
Go forth Writer…
Speak worlds, write life, craft existence between darkness and light…
Forge the boundaries between good and evil…
Spin the web of life and death into something magic and eternal…
Become the story you were meant to be…
Be brave, and be the writer.