I’m the monthly conversationalist on my blogs of late, I don’t know why – maybe it took this long to find my own authentic voice.
Oh the Irony!
Maybe I have exceeded the realms of prejudgement and nowadays I feel quite accomplished as the Poet. I have curated thousands of word adaptations, thanks to I-Ching theory. Or maybe it is thanks to a little help from a magazine, which became part of my life in January 2018 and continues to remain.
There are so many reasons why we do what we do.
Even in saying ‘why we do what we do’ reminds me of a bonkers moment in 2016 when the whole world of creative madness became ultimately surreal, non real for me.
Of late, I haven’t written any poems, no creative writing, nothing. Or do I fib? Because I have written a few things, something at least, but it is mainly notes and journalling. Did you know that in my experience, even journalling can become quite addictive?
Setting time to write, about stuff, about anything from poetry to blogs, to journals, to a letter to a friend. All of these creative moments require time, like now, a time in audible silence, when there is no speech, only the words in your head, the clickety clack of the keys on the keyboard and the sound of cars as they whoosh by. I like the sound of vehicles passing by, they make me feel like I am constantly on the move, they give me momentum. So, why did the creative writing take some time out? and why did the journalling become and addiction?
This is where the true irony kicks in. I felt like I needed a break. I felt addicted to becoming the poet, not passionate – addicted.
Creative Writing stole the show in all of my conversations, everything I watched, listened to, hung around with, always revolved around creative writing and that may seem sweet, you know, if you like writing and want to be that Author. However, no, my addiction to feeling that I must be writing everyday unless I would be a worthless nobody, it had to stop. It felt too competitive, and the one thing I have learned over the years, is I don’t really like to compete. I love to participate, but not compete.
Listen big and listen good to the following because even I am a woman that sometimes will have to eat my own words.
Most of my poems in the past, they were triggered by my time as an undergraduate at the University. I had felt so proud to attend the University of Hull. I had thought it was an impossible dream and I had achieved it, I was thriving, developing, growing, nurturing a new talent. I was awestruck. When I tried to write, I was and still am the true novice with many mistakes, too many to count. However, for every mistake I knew there was something to learn and I grew and grew and grew. My mind was like a sponge and it loved to be saturated.
I do believe that if the brain doesn’t receive enough stimulation it becomes sponge like for whatever information it can get its jelly state on. Some of us may turn to the TV, to books, to Gaming, to exercise, but still – that brain needs stimulation, true stimulation, information and more information and I learned that even when you know a lot more, you still, cannot get enough.
I became fascinated by the knowledge and history of religion, a philosopher on a quest to understand what was, what is, and what may the future be and . . .
Wow! Those were the days, when I allowed myself to be swept along with a charade, something so unreal that when reality returned, I landed with such a thump my behaviour reacted as if I had lost all of my limbs, even my writing hands.
Don’t worry that is just a metaphorical exaggeration. I have become a literal dramatist since reading a ton of books.
If you read enough books, you can become lost within them. Just like computer games, and social media, be aware.
Creativity is an adventure of exploration, questioning, and the collaboration of ideas, minds and many forms. However, we have to remember as Writer’s that we must stay grounded and remain within the essence that is reality, too.
Being the writer, it gave me a voice, but a voice I didn’t want. I don’t like to be competitive and I don’t like to antagonise. I was once told by someone “I think you write for yourself!”
And they were right. I write for me and me alone, it allows me to share my thoughts in a wild and weird way, I don’t take ownership over my crazy mindful thoughts that find a way to rest upon a page, when I blog, I simply let it all go, and that is what journalling is. Now, whether I should be letting it all go for others to read is another story, but that was never about trying to win people over, or be the best, this space is a place for me to simply be in the moment. I had told myself 10 minutes for this blog and I am already on 20. Will I ever learn?
So, to wrap up in five minutes what the Irony of all this writing shame that I have is. I needed a break from the words, and the quiet and the mindful thoughts and the clickety clack of the keys. I tried to avoid writing at all, but now I have found new projects and hobbies to fill the mindful space, and I find I still want to write, therefore, rather than ignore it, I let it in. Maybe for ten minutes, maybe for twenty, but I choose to be in control of it from now on. No more evenings lost to this cause, no more mornings at 5am just to fulfil a blog post.
The many hobbies I now have they have created a life that I love to write about, fancy that.
The journalling to self awareness became one persons plan then later evolved into a magazine, I read that magazine.
The talking and the sharing of amazing books and experiences, coaches use as tools to help others become empowered and take control of their own lives.
Poetry is a place to pour your heart out when you are ready. I am not ready to begin again yet, my life is still very full. Maybe I should write poetry about fullness?
The novels I began many moons ago, they wait patiently for their ending, but I am not great with The End because I love for the story to go on and on, like a series or a soap, all books and films are without an end in truth, they are always the beginning of a new story and I love that.
I am learning and my five minutes is up, therefore I will leave you with this:
Why was the lightbulb invented?
Thank you for reading these words by Julie Spencer, Publishing as Verdalibre, once a Philosopher, still a Creative Writer, having had a good old holiday from it and currently out and about mining Emeralds whilst journalling for ten to zen sessions of course.
J. Spencer, First written, June – August 2018, re-hashed April 2022
One Writer’s Creative Writing Space
Creative Writing Space 