The Hazards of Not Writing

I was slapped in the face this morning. Not literally, but I'm stinging from it just the same.

And it's all my fault. And it's all because I haven't been writing.

For YEARS, ever since I took freshman composition, I've been in love with the idea of writing a play about Edward de Vere, seventeenth Earl of Oxford, whom I suspect wrote Shakespeare's plays. But over the past many years (too many to mention, believe me), I didn't write. I have tons of research for it, a huge collection of books on it, and I'd even made an outline of the major events so that I could someday write it.

Only now I don't have to. The movie is coming out in October, and it's called Anonymous. I've missed my opportunity.

Fiction writing is one thing--sure, J.K. Rowling has made the one and only Harry Potter, and Tolkien's Lord of the Rings only happens once, but other fantastic characters can still lead beautiful lives on paper. I noticed, too, that yet ANOTHER production of The Three Musketeers is coming out. (How many versions are we going to get? The book is better than any of them.)

But Oxford's story should only happen once. I just hope it's done beautifully, that it is better than I can wish for, that people can see the irony, the tragedy, the poetry of the whole situation. Either way, whether it sucks or holds audiences spellbound, it's too late for me to write it. I've missed that chance because I haven't written it. Hell, I am probably still a decade away from having the skill to write it.

Then again, I'm not really writing anymore, so what do I have to complain about?

I'm Not a Writer

I'm not a writer.

I've been trying for years to CALL myself one, to LIVE the life of a writer, to THINK like a writer, to BE a writer. But it isn't working. I can try harder, or I can accept the fact that it simply won't work. I'm not the next J.K. Rowling. I'm not even the next Barbara Cartland. My writing sucks.

I've been writing plays since I was six, but I'm not a playwright. I'm a thespian with quite a bit of theatre experience, but merely a fashioner of inane dialogue. My characters are sappy and lifeless, and they don't seem to accomplish anything while onstage. Boring, truly boring. My favorite genre, it seems, is "kitchen sink" drama, which most professional theaters specifically request not to read. I even have one full-length play that takes place in a kitchen. No joke. The whole play. And there's a sink. And people cook and clean and eat and drink tea in it. Just like a real kitchen. You can't get any more kitchen sink-ish than that.

I'm not a novelist, either, just a writer of very long, highly craptacular prose. It's awful, really, even after eleventy-seven revisions. Don't believe me? Just post your e-mail address in the comments, and I'll send you a sample. You'll believe me then.

And I'm not a poet. Sure, I can put some pretty images together, give them a bit of meaning. I can even rhyme poetry, too, though I avoid that as much as possible since the moment I start rhyming my poetry starts to sound like a toothpaste commercial. Don't worry, if you bother coming back here again (and you probably won't), I'll post some lovely samples of my best toothpaste-y sounding commercial/poems. Fabulous stuff. It'll make whatever you wrote at thirteen--you know, all that "Jenny broke up with me so I want to die" poetry?--look brilliant.

Realizing I'm not a writer is quite freeing. I don't have to make my query sound good anymore. Why bother, when the novel itself sucks? I can send out chapters without the angst. I can go through life without being disappointed when somebody hates what I've written. Of course they hate it, I'll be able to say. It sucks! What else were they supposed to do with it?

Even better, I can stop writing. Completely. No more writing. Except for some awful poetry, since it isn't really writing. And these blog posts. I've had all sorts of people tell me that's not really writing, either, so I can still do those. I can keep working on all that other crap, too, without the pressure of having to somehow miraculously make it not crap. I can even give all of you a few days a week to post your own crap. Yeah, that will make me feel better, to know that I'm not the only one who isn't really writing.

Not that you'll come. I mean, who would? So don't come back. You won't like it. Go find some encouraging blog to tell you that you'll make it some day if you keep working hard, that you just need to find the right agent, or not say stupid things in your query, or get the right beta readers.

But if you come back, don't whine. I told you not to. That you can't follow directions only means you're destined to suffer. As am I. If I see you here again, I'll just know you're hopeless.

Just like me.