Zìjǐ Xiězuò (自己寫作) I Write for Myself: A Day in the Life

ORIGINAL CONTENT

There’s a constant gentle breeze nudging the nearby trees sway this way and that. The air is dense and warm, feels sort of like trying to breathe in a plastic bag and it is only mid June. Large dark ominous clouds scattered across the sky, with the sun totally hidden.

My hand dangled off the side of the bed and I am slow to wake to the licks of the Weimaraner. He’s telling me it is time to leave the comforts of my fresh cotton sheets but I resist and withdrew my hand underneath the covers. The Dane makes a huge commotion on the bed getting up, turning around, and lurk at me patiently. I opened one eye to see a set of nostrils and floppy face, in fear impending slingers, I leap out of bed and begin my daily routine.

It’s my day off and I am especially slow in my movement. I looked forward to going to an early morning OJ class so that I can go about my day. The Weimaraner caught a glimpse of the Lucky Japanese Jizo Family Praying garden statute temporarily propped up on top of the bookcase in the living room and growled at it. He must have forgotten it was there after barking at it for a solid 15 minutes the day before. My day is filled with the jingling of dog tags, the low hum of the refrigerator, and the ceiling fan leisurely circulating the air between the air conditioning coming on.

I sit at the kitchen table procrastinating on writing with a few rounds of Bejeweled. Then I searched for a new featured image to top off my posts, followed by refilling all the dogs’ water bowls with fresh water. I glanced over at the sink full of dishes and at last, I chose to open a new daunting blank page to fill with words.

It’s rear to be off work, at home, without the constant blaring of the television. It has almost become an anomaly as the Hubs prefers the background noise where as I prefer the stillness, the calm, the elusive hush which allows me to think and formulate coherent thoughts. It’s a compromise that I have learned to accept after 26 years of marriage. However when moments as today surfaces, I cherish it as a gift, a reward, one I should not waste on playing MouseCraft.

Writing, like any other art form is a perishable skill. However, on the flip side of that, is the more one writes the easier it is to write more – at least it is true for me. I have committed myself to journaling/scrapbooking in my Hobonichi everyday in order to be accustomed to the act of writing daily. It has provided a very liberating platform to write as I please while capturing glimpses of my day-to-day life. The act of having to formulate a complete and coherent thought has made a significant difference in fostering a more consistent blogger which I hope is one step closer to finishing my CNF manuscript.

Zìjǐ Xiězuò (自己寫作) I Write for Myself: Just Write

ORIGINAL CONTENT

Stories swirls about my brain like an annoying nag. So many had come to me but I ignorantly denied the compulsion to give them life. ‘I’ll get to it later,’ I’d reassure myself. The words gradually visited less and less often often, forcing to annotate the fleeting sparks of creativity at its’ convenience rather than mine. To my disappointment, I have not made much in the way of progress in finishing my book since obtaining my MA. As a matter of fact, for all my plans of grandeur, I have not even had the motivation to submit the publishable essays to editors to be considered to be published.

My line of thinking was that I didn’t want to piece-meal my best work by publishing them prior to my book being ready. My reservation was that I didn’t want to write new book-worthy essays and have them disqualified to be published because they were previously published on my blog. My fear was that I couldn’t present the perfect, publishable essay in every blog post, hence ruining any chances of book agents, editors, or anyone in the publishing world to see me as a worthy undiscovered author. My strategy was to segregate book-worthy essays, from blog-worthy essays, and to only post the most perfect essay that will go viral & effortlessly lead to being a published author. However, what resulted in all my extravagant planning and strategy was being too overwhelmed to write at all. The very idea of reserving one set of writing for this and other writing for that caused me to forego writing all together.

Until one of my best friends in the world inspired me to do something different. I seem to have an odd talent in making friends with those younger than myself … sometimes by decades. This persistent phenomena perhaps is an attestation to the maturity of all the wonderful brilliant women I call my best friends, or its an attestation to my own lack of maturity … who really knows. Nevertheless, my best friend M is probably the most ambitious person I know. To witness such conscious, proactive, and strategic effort in self-advocacy in a male-dominated industry was awe-inspiring.

So much so that it forced me to re-evaluate my ultimate goal(s) as a writer. Do I need the validation of having a published book in order for me to be a writer? Do I want to write because I feel like I have worthwhile stories to share or do I only write with the aspiration of being published? What is my definition of a successful writer?

That is when the concept of Zìjǐ Xiězuò (自己寫作) (roughly translated to I Write for Myself) came into fruition. At a bare minimum I have to actually write to be any resemblance of a writer. And in order for me to write, I have to let go my personal mandate that being published is the only worthy reason to tell my stories. I cannot continue to create an infinite amount of hoops for myself to jump through in order to start writing. So here I am. Writing. First time in years. Feels rather good.

Author’s Chronicles: Just Like a BandAid …

 

… the faster you pull it off the less it hurts.

So far I have received two rejections and surprisingly I’m okay with it.

I think my mind set is grounded in realistic pessimism. Since I am unpublished writer the chances of my first few submissions to be accepted is a stretch. But that is A-Ok. I can use this time to invest in writing additional essays and beef up my arsenal of submission ready work to rotate through until something gets published.

And to be quite honest I just figure that there’s an editor somewhere out there who will appreciate my work and will deem it worthy of publishing. She or he is out there, I just need to forge ahead and continue to submit until I find them. There’s an old saying that, ‘even a blind dog will find a bone if it digs enough holes’ – so that is exactly what I plan to do … keep digging holes. Arf!

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Grasshopper

2015 7-27 Intro Quote

I have finally decided to pursue my dream of obtaining a Masters degree and I am quite excited! MA in English – Creative Writing in the Non Fiction track. The goal is that by the end of the program I will have made significant progress towards my memoir if not completed entirely.

I am currently on my third class in the program and is suffering through some forced fiction. Instead of letting it go to waste I thought I’d share them here … in the infinite world of the internet.  My hope is to post something every Monday so please check back & enjoy!

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