There are times in life when I am on my knees thanking God for my great imagination and creative talents. There are other times when I can’t imagine why anybody would want to be a writer or an artist- it’s so painful at times.
I have expressed to you before the difficulty that sometimes exists when you live in a family with a lot of writers. You begin to feel out of the loop. At first it wasn’t so bad. Consider when I was twelve, for instance. At that time, it was pretty much just Mom who was writing. So when the extended relative asks you if you’re going to be a writer like your Mom, one can feel pretty comfortable in saying ‘no,’ quite confidently. I still say it with with a fair amount confidence. “No, I am not going to be a writer.”
But am I going to write? That’s a harder question to answer.
I’m older now, and most of my younger siblings have shown an interest in writing of some form or another. And in recent years, plot bunnies have been invading my mind. I think it’s safe to say they started their attack my junior year of high school. They’re just fragmented ideas or characters, nothing of real quality or substance- nothing has even ever been complete. And I want them to be complete, so that I can write them down and get them out of my head. But they just stay up there.
For the most part, they are good company and I enjoy having them. They help me get to sleep at night and keep me from getting bored. But it can go too far, and every once in a while you want to get them out so you can think of something else for a change. One wonders if the solitary writer is just an illusion, what they’re really after is getting fictional characters out of the house and into the world where they can be the reader’s problem.
Art is different. I can complete artwork, for one thing. Besides, artwork doesn’t invade my head unbidden. Not typically anyway. I might be unusual in the sense that I don’t pre-visualize my art that much or very well. I sort of get an idea, and then figure it out as I go. That’s not so easy for me to do with writing. As a result, I tend to think more kindly of art as a hobby than writing. Even though I think the end result of writing is cooler to have.
On the other hand, I’ve only been dabbing into creative writing for four years are so. Art I have been practicing… pretty much all of my life. It is the one hobby that has stuck with me since childhood, unlike scrapbooking (which I gave up on) and journalling (which I got into after I gave up scrapbooking). Nevertheless and notwithstanding how much I enjoy art, I don’t consider it the be all and end all- also it’s a pain sometimes. I don’t want to stop there, and writing would be where I’d go to next. I’ll keep dabbing into it, it’s just that every once in a while, you stop and wonder why anyone would chose to put themselves through it.