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lovenotesandneonstars · 4 years ago

Text

And That’s Enough.

Wanna hear a secret?

Every writer I've ever known has, at some point, faced a soul-crushing anxiety over whether or not they're really a writer.

"But Topher," you might say, "That's not a secret!"

If I were being clever, I might give you a wink and the slight twitch of my nose that all the wise old men do. But I'm not very clever, I'm not necessarily wise, and I'm not old. So instead, I figured I might tell you about how I learned to solve that crisis for myself. But in order to get there, we have to start at the beginning.

I was a fairly lonely kid, never really had a steady friends' group, and when I was in second grade I started deliberately getting lunch detention so that I could spend my lunch period reading without being harassed by my classmates. I thought it was a genius plan. Well, that, and my second grade teacher (who was also my third grade teacher, yay for small towns!) and I had a personality clash. I would finish my work too fast and start reading from my pocket dictionary (yeah, I was THAT nerd), and would correct him in class. He, in return, would try to find any way possible to punish or humiliate me. It was fun! I loved reading no matter what trouble it got me in, and getting in trouble just gave me more time to read.

Ask any writer you know and they'll tell you that in order to write, you have to enjoy reading. And I was always excited to read (which hasn't changed much as I've grown, I just find less time to be able to read these days. #Adulting, right?) at any chance I got. When I was in 5th grade, I stayed in the truck with no AC and just the window rolled down for 3 hours while my mom went grocery shopping to read Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone (which took me a whopping 5 hours to finish!). When sixth grade rolled around, I started wanting to try my hand at creating something instead of just consuming it. For a lonely, depressed kid, the world of fiction was the best friend I had.

The first thing I remember writing was House MD fanfiction. It was my favorite show and I started out as any respectable fanfiction writer does: with a Mary Sue self-insert! Eventually, I had a small cult following on the school bus, and found my way to the big leagues of fanfiction.net about a year later. I moved onto another overdone trope: songfics. From there, I kept writing fanfic, even after my mom found it and banned me from it. I just enjoyed writing so much. House MD turned into Harry Potter which turned into Glee. I should also mention the other kind of writing I found as an eleven year old, right after I started writing fanfic: role playing. I stumbled upon a Harry Potter RP one day while trying to find video games for my favorite franchise and, with the help of a kindly more experienced role player, was taught how to RP. I was hooked. Soon, all my free time turned to writing. I was neglecting my video games in favor of blasting my favorite album at any point and writing more and more. And when I wasn't writing, I was reading. Harry Potter, The Princess Diaries, Percy Jackson, whatever I could get my hands on. Middle school was consumed by writing and reading, whether it was the actual series I was into or fanfiction for it.

Then came high school, and my RP site shut down, and my book pile ran out, and I fell into a deeper depression than I had before. I had always loved music, but I got more into it as I couldn't find much to read that I was interested in. But on the bright side, I was making real friends! I wasn't spending my lunch times alone anymore, and I had people to talk to about the fandoms I loved. Writing and reading fell to the wayside as I explored more music and l got back into video games. I was also a theatre kid, and was getting ready to audition for my first high school play.

Everything changed when my mom passed away on December 5th, 2011, 4 days after her 52nd birthday. My dad made me stay home for a week, and when I came back, all my "friends" refused to talk to me or spend time with me. My depression hit heavier than ever, and I was even lonelier after having had a taste of regular friendship. I spent all my time playing video games and listening to dark, angry music, until June 2012, when I watched a movie called It's Kind of a Funny Story, based on the book by Ned Vizzini while I was sick. It instantly felt like I needed the book in my life, and my dad, thrilled to see me wanting to read again, let me order the book. I fell in love, and to this day, over 8 years later, it's still my favorite book. Soon after, my love of writing came back and hit me and I got back into role playing. I had a role model to look up to who wrote something so relatable to me that it hurt so good, and the video games took a back burner. I was inventing people left and right to see what kind of trouble I could get them into.

My world came screeching to another halt when my newfound role model took his own life on December 19th, 2013. This time, though, instead of backing off from the role playing, I dove deeper into it. I found new friends on the internet and kept making new people. Not long after that, I came out as transgender, and used writing to cope with my dysphoria and strained relationship with my family. Every waking minute I was either role playing or thinking about role playing. I snuck on my phone in class to write replies when the teacher wasn't looking. I wrote replies in my notebook to type up when I got home. I went from short, 3-sentence replies to hundreds of words at a time.

Then, in May 2015, I graduated high school, and I was off to college as a psych major! In the time between, I had graduated to running RP sites as well, and I was constantly writing. My summer was filled with writing, and once I made it to college, I got back into fanfiction, this time on Archive of Our Own. AO3 seemed far more professionally laid out, and it had more freedom of what could be posted. I started writing band fanfiction. I made friends through my fanfiction, now, in addition to RP. It was where I would retreat when homework was too boring or my classes were too much. In November 2015, I participated in my first National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). I instantly found the community I was meant to be in and made many friends that I would come to consider family. Ny first NaNo I came in just shy of 13,000 words on a band fic. I couldn't believe I had managed all that in one month with being a college freshman, starting a new job, and continuing to work on my role playing! Things were great! For the next year, my life was nothing short of amazing. I got a summer job on campus, went to my first Pride, and made more friends.

Once again, my life came to a screeching halt on November 2, 2016. Remember how I mentioned I'd always struggled with mental health issues? Well, I ended up in the hospital for just over 21 hours for suicidal intent. This was pretty much the darkest moment and a turning point in my life. It was also kind of ironic, because my favorite book had to do with much the same thing. After getting out, I dove back into NaNoWriMo for the second time, still working on band fic, and this time, ended up just short of 20,000 words. I was doing more, and using it to take away the anxiety I was feeling in my classes. I was hating my major, and the RPs I was in were falling through, but I had a project to work on. For the first time, I kept working on the project after NaNo was over. Things were good again, and over the summer, I made the decision to change my major from Psychology to Creative Writing, but ultimately had to wait one more term because I was already signed up for classes.

I completed my third NaNoWriMo in 2017 with fewer words than the previous year. But I was committed. I had helped start a Discord for my home region for NaNo and was now spending almost full-time hours volunteering for my region. I finished my last semester as a Psych major and then I made my way home for the holidays, where I continued to write, diving back into fanfic for TV shows and now adding Youtubers to the mix. When I returned to school at the beginning of 2018, I started my new life in all my English classes, including my first writers' workshop, and I fell in love. I was still writing fanfiction, though, while others were writing original fiction, and all that I could think was that I HAD to be a fraud. How could I be a real writer if I was just writing fanfiction for my classes? It was frustrating to think that I was stuck writing something that most people saw as mindless drivel, or even ripoffs of the works and lives of others. After my first term of creative writing, I took some time off from my fiction class, and used that to take a break from anything that wasn't RP.

Fall 2018 brought with it many challenges. For one, my college converted to the semester system, and having to confront a new length of term was difficult. It also brought around an intermediate fiction course for me, as well as a creative nonfiction course. Here, I found something I enjoyed: I was able to write about my own life, instead of the lives of band members. After a while, I got to know the band members, which completely killed my desire to write band fic. Life seemed a lot easier without that urge, and I started writing original fiction. In November 2018, for the first time, I wrote original fiction for my 4th NaNoWriMo, and my word count grew, once more, to just under 22,500 words. It was progress, and I felt great. I finally knew how to work on something original on my own.

Spring 2019 was even harder than I had faced before: I had received the news that I was not getting financial aid, and would not be able to return to school the next year. I was devastated, and determined not to have to return to my dad's house for the following year, back to the small town where I had no prospects. I scrambled to find a job, but nothing worked out, and for the next seven months, I jumped from living situation to living situation, relying on my friends to keep me alive and ending up in a tightly packed studio apartment with 2 friends and their 3 cats.

One of these 7 months was my 5th NaNoWriMo and my second attempt at original fiction, this time trying to use a character I had been RPing with for some 6 years at the time. I started using new writing tools, like 4TheWords, and threw myself into NaNo, using it to deal with the frustrations of everyday life. This was the first time I came so far: 28,611 words! And still... My project stalled out. As a major pantser, I had gone into the project with one developed character, one who only had a name and profession, and the plotline "They fall in love". It was freeing, to have something new to work on that I had no idea where I was headed and that I had someone brand new to create. All this was helping me adjust to the new job I found in September, a job I found myself absolutely loving. It was the best time in the world, all I could ask for. I found a new RP site and made more friends. Come December 31st, I found a new place to live, and was finally living on my own.

Then, my writing on that novel stalled out. I couldn't figure out where to go, or what to do with my characters, and so I dove back into role playing. It was all I could do, really, to keep myself occupied when I wasn't working. Things were looking up: I found out I was returning to school in fall; I loved my job; my roommate and I got along well. And then, things fell apart again, to the point where I had to stay somewhere else for over a month while there were construction issues on my apartment. I was depressed, but RP and writing kept me going. Finally, things settled down, and life seemed well again.

That is, until halfway through March, when COVID-19 ended up basically destroying the world I lived in. I lost my job (live performances during a pandemic are a no-no) and had to move back in with my dad, and, well, here we are. 4 months post job loss, I'm trying to get ready for all online classes, and trying to cope with moving back to the town that I couch surfed to avoid. It's been hard, and writing hasn't come easily. I haven't been able to really focus on anything other than role playing until now, and I still find myself questioning whether I'm REALLY a writer every time I realize that this essay or my RP is the only writing I've done in months. After all, how can I claim to be really dedicated to NaNoWriMo or even my writing in general if I can never finish a project? It's been almost impossible for me to do so in the past. All I've been able to do is come up with yet another idea that I've yet to attempt to actually write, and that has no real plot, and that I'll (probably) never finish, either?

Then I think of why I started to write this. I needed to have some writing to show some people I want to impress, and I started angsting over whether or not I'm actually a writer, and if I'm really cut out for this. And the fact that there are over 2500 words more on the page than there were when I started means that, in spite of all my anxieties, I am a writer. All these words I've put out into the world the last several years would never have come into the world the way I've decided to use them if I wasn't a writer. Even now, as I sit here writing this post, for something that I truly love, I'm reminded that I'm not a writer because I follow XYZ formula, or because I plan things meticulously, or because I have some famous novel out there. I'm a writer because I write. And that's enough.

#essay #2020 #writing #am i really a writer #nanowrimo #life #creative nonfiction

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