Cobwebs Of The Mind: Writing And Despair Happy Hour (Part 6)

The saga must continue....

Welcome to Part Six of the Writing & Despair Happy Hour!

Entitled:

So You Wanted To Be A Writer!

subtitled:

What Insanity Possessed You?

And so one day you woke up and discovered deep in your heart that what you really wanted to do was write. You wanted to effect people with your words. You wanted to make them love you, hate you, read you - and enter into your head and soul. You wanted to use words to change the world if only a little part of it.

You dreamed of having your books, stories and articles published.
You dreamed of meeting people in the street and them saying: "Oh you are so-and-so. I love to read what you write!
You dreamed of book-signings, along with radio and television appearances.
You dreamed of royalty checks that could get you through the next year or even month.
You dreamed of Pulitzers and Nobel Prizes.
You dreamed of poems, and love, and angst and sorrow - all sharing with an adoring reading public.
You dreamed and dreamed. Oh boy, did you dream!

Hey - here is a message for all you dreamers!

Oh you knew it would be hard. Maybe not as hard as it turned out, but hard nonetheless. You knew you would have to sacrifice. You knew you would have to work hard and double hours. You knew it was going to be a long hard road. But you were sure it was well worth it in the end. You went by the adage "I don't want to bitch about what I want to do with my life. I want to try and live it". You adopted the old cliche, "It is better to have tried and failed then never to have tried at all". You acknowledged your own failing. You knew where your strengths lie and where your weakness was. You were a well-aware, balanced and intelligent human being. You did it all. Any obstacle the was placed in front of you - was immediately challenged.

There were no limitations that you would accept. You were spreading your wings. And damn well sure that with patience, hard work and fortitude you were going to fly.

Oh the road was so lonely. Friends laughed at you. "You?" they said with a derisive smirk on their face. "You? A writer?" You just smiled and walked away.

Your family at first was understanding. "Hey, when am I going to read your book?" Your kids would ask. "You can read it now if you like," you would answer honestly, wanting their opinions. "No thanks, I want to read it when it is a real book. Not something on your computer!" they would answer in dismay.

Your spouse or your significant other was understanding as well. Up to a point. Up to the point when you forgot their birthday and anniversary. Up to the point when one day you looked up from your manuscript and said "Remind me please. Who are you again?"

No one really understood you. No one understood this craziness that overwhelmed you and took over every fiber of your being. No one could feel what you were going through.

And you discovered just how alone you were. Even though you were surrounded by loving people who only wanted the best for you, and felt you should be put on proper meds. You discovered just how loneliness can feel.

And so your life continued. The kids discovered that they had a new person living with them. Your significant other did not know what you turned into. Your friends smiled in pity when they saw you.

As you walked down the street you would longingly look into the windows of book stores. Your mind fantasized about seeing your great work right there with your name in Bold Print. You went inside and all you could see in that vast Barnes & Nobel was a huge crowd around a table where you sat signing book after book until your fingers hurt and your hand was cramped with strain.

You carried on conversations with your inner self. You argued with the voices in your head. You found them funny and humorous and sad all at the same time. You talked all day but not one word escaped from your lips.

You would sit alone in your room, and more than once your significant other or a child would burst in, look around in growing shock and ask: "Who are you talking to? We could hear you laughing over the television!"

And you would just shrug, knowing that introducing your family to those people in your head was not a good idea. You would be medicated so fast that you would never be able to write another coherent word.

Therapy was brought up. You were called "unrealistic". You were labeled "a bit off". Your children were embarrassed to be seen with you, because you would suddenly chuckle when no one said anything. You became known as the neighborhood eccentric.

One day you overheard your best friend whisper to a group of people at a party you had no idea what you were doing at:

"Poor guy. Once he was great. Now we think he lost his marbles. Walks around talking to himself all day. I feel sorry for his family. Thinks he is going to be a great writer. Can you just imagine? Him! A great writer! Talk about madness and insanity. That is one for the books! I think his family should get him on meds real quick. Otherwise he is going to end up like that guy in The Shining!"

And you laugh. Cause inside your head all the voices are telling you to ignore all the jealous people who just don't understand how great a writer you really are!