A post on PBWRITES prompted this post. Actually, it was just a one line quote:
In order to write the book you want to write, in the end you have to become the person you need to become to write that book.
― Junot Díaz
It got me thinking. And thinking some more. I thought about the books I would like to write, the stories lounging in digital files, biding their time and collecting cyber-dust until I revisit and inject them with life. My fear is that most of those stories once brought back to life will stumble around like Frankenstein’s monster, scaring readers enough to come after me with pitch forks and torches.
But maybe, if I adopt the appropriate persona, the stories will become somewhat separate from me and ultimately, if readers do want to pitch-fork-and-torch me they wont be able to find the actual writer since it will be a fictitious persona. Or maybe I just have not become the person I need to become to write the damn book already. Maybe the person I will become will know WHAT the story of the book actually is, because this person today, right now, does not know for sure.
There is an innate tendency in my brain to romanticize everything, so when I think about writing I see myself like this:
When maybe I should be seeing myself more like this:
And while I do love me some cats and Papa Hemingway stories (and I’ve been known to have a glass of wine
or three while writing) I don’t want to lose myself completely in a writing persona. Although, having just written that, it’s more than likely EXACTLY what I need to do; maybe not necessarily channel an alcoholic, unfaithful, egotistic, covertly misogynistic, talented dead man, but something or someONE else. Actually, it sounds kind of fun.
I think I need a costume for this, though, to get into character (excuse number 953 to put off writing?? I need a costume). Until I can think of one, I will continue writing as plain ol’ me and see what comes to life and if the pages resemble a Zombie or Frankenstein’s monster, it will be MY living-dead writing terrorizing readers near and far.
On a side note, I just finished reading The Paris Wife by Paula McLain. It’s a delightful read; well written, colorful, flowing style, about Hemingway’s first wife, Hadley. An inveterate reader could probably finish it in a long afternoon, it reads so easily.
Bring on the pitchforks!