Tuesday, March 1, 2016

A WRITER’S CRISIS OF FAITH

Who am I?
What am I?
And why?

I’m wondering. Have I shot myself in the foot, screwed my pooch, flubbed my dub?

There is an author, Delilah S. Dawson, who is widely-read and telling it like it is. I had time this morning to read the beginning of her “Catcall”. Whether creative nonfiction or short-story, I want to go back, to finish. Because the lead-in is that good.


As I march through the days, weeks, months and years, diligently giving time to the massive project that is “Blessed Are the Peace Makers-The Trilogy”, I ignore that which I’ve been told is my forte: the ability to tell the truth in a relatable, and sometimes stark, clarity.

And I mourn.

Because that, my friend, fed me. Filled me.

By emptying my guts, I redeem my soul, one story at a time.

Telling my journal is not the same. Yes, it gets my thoughts and hopes and dreams on paper and out of my head. But it doesn’t bring the depth of awareness that polishing each word for public consumption gives, nor the satisfaction of others relating.

Have I lost my bearings by ignoring my friends’ (Elliot Grace, Eric W. Trant, Roland Yeomans, Andrew T. Post and other gutsy writers*) advice to embrace creative nonfiction? Have I missed the mark by throwing everything in to one fiction/fantasy project and turning my back on that which I know feeds my soul?

Holy cannoli. I have.

So now what?

Periodically, I contemplate revamping "That Rebel" and giving to it that which it deserves: an owner who loves it, and hugs it, and pets it, and squeezes it, and calls it George. Well. Maybe not George. I kinda like "That Rebel". But you get my drift.


The Abominable Snow Bunny

What holds me back?

Don’t laugh.

There are/were people reading my words that I prefer not to know me. Or my business. The fellow who proclaimed he was madly in love when we broke-up, then two weeks later moved a match (dot) com-woman in to the house I helped him pick out. My brother’s girlfriend. And…

Huh. Is that all? Two people? I let two freaking people keep me away from my love? What the hay-diddle-diddle?

That’s it. Screw it. This stops today.

But there will be changes.

I’ve taken a pen name, a pseudonym, a nom de plume, my official author-name. Call me O.J. O.J. Barré. Nice to meet you.


There will be other changes. More articles, more regularly. On a myriad of topics, not just writing. A new look. Who knows? Sky's the limit.

That Rebel ~ O. J. Barré

*As I visit my old-friends' blogs, I find that they too, have been blogging less often. How about we start a blog-challenge to kickstart our blogs. Again.

2 comments:

Arlee Bird said...

There you are! A reappearance with a reinvention. Whoever you are, become, or choose to be whenever can work if you work at it. I know what you're saying about the blogging though. I've hung in there, but have slacked off a lot. And still not accomplishing the things outside of blogging that I probably should be focusing on.

Did you say "blog Challenge"? Don't forget the April A to Z! It's established and coming next month. This will be the seventh year so I guess something has been working with it.

Best wishes for the success of things to come in your writing life and your life in general.

Arlee Bird
A to Z Challenge Co-host
Tossing It Out

Olivia J. Herrell, writing as O.J. Barré said...

Lee, Hello!!! Thank you for stopping by! Not sure why I didn't notice your comment before, I usually get an email. Too much life-stuff I guess. So YES, there's the A to Z Challenge. Hmm. Wonder if I could...

I'll ponder that Lee and see if I can't come up with 30-days worth of posts.

I've missed seeing you. Glad you're still blogging and keeping the A to Z alive and well.

~ O.J. Barre'

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...