it's just a TV show

            I hate it when my husband tells me “It’s just a story” or “it’s just a movie” or “it’s just a show, it isn’t real” or he asks me “Why do you care so much? It’s not real?”

            I can’t help it. It makes me flame. I’ve lost count of the number of times his off-handed aforementioned comments have left me more pissed off than I should have been (I’ll admit that much), stomping my way down the hall and into my office, where I once again take solace in my books, my music, my movies, my computer.

            Such is life for way too overly imaginative, creatively minded me.

            Oh yeah, did I forget to mention the fact that I’m a writer?

            Oh shit. Probably should have mentioned that earlier.

            I tried to explain it to him tonight.

            That as a writer, over 95% of what whirls around like a maelstrom in my brain every minute of every hour of every day (when it isn’t song lyrics), is those characters that “aren’t real” to most people. And plot lines, random name and story ideas, movies I loved, books I loved, random things that inspire me along the way.

            I’m a writer. If not for things that “didn’t exist”, my brain would be almost entirely silent almost all of every day.

            But it isn’t, as those of you out there who are fellow writers, fellow movie buffs, fellow fanboys and fangirls and music buffs—fellow imaginative and creatively-minded people will attest.

            Life is what you make it. And what the hell kind of life can we ever hope to live without passion in it, without love—love of life, love of loved ones, love of what we do, love of the things we find joy in—the things that we’re passionate about, the things that drive and inspire and move us—to do, to partake in, to create for ourselves?

            I’m a writer, and a lifelong self-admitting bibliophile. I’ve been in love with the written, spoken, and sung word for my entire life. Since I was four, I can’t remember a time I wasn’t madly in love with a book—with the worlds that lie in wait between the covers, in the movies, on the TV screen, and more often than I’m comfortable admitting, in my head, in the worlds that exist there, and the characters that live and breathe within each and every one of them.

            I have been writing stories, poetry, and songs of my own since I was 8 years old, which means that I have of my own free will, sat down to homework of my own assigning each and every night (most nights for 8-12 hours at a sitting without blinking), spinning out tales and creating characters and dialogue and situations and creating worlds that “aren’t real.”

            When it comes to the work of others—books, poetry, songs, movies, TV shows—I’ve always paid more attention than most of the people I know in my day to day life.

            I don’t know why.

            Is it because I’m a bibliophile? Is it because I’m a writer? Because I understand how much work and thought and effort and time they pour into their work, as I always have?

Maybe it’s just because I’m overly imaginative, or my empathetic nature?

            I’ve always had this uncanny way of being able to feel the feelings of others very deeply, the same as I’ve always felt things in general very deeply—when I love, when I hate, when I despair, when I rage, when I yearn, or desire, or despise, or loathe, I do so with every single fiber of my being. Down into the depths of my deepest heart and soul.

            I always felt that it was my empathetic and strongly passionate and feeling nature that helped me dive into my work as hard and deeply as I do—that it added to the realism and the depth of my work—that it made it easier for me to convey the feelings of what I was trying to put across to possible readers, and what my characters felt.

            After all, what good is a story, if you can’t move others to feel? If you can’t touch them through your work? If you can’t share stories with them that haunt them, or inspire them, hurt them, or heal them?

            What good is a story, a movie, a book, a song, a poem, a painting, a portrait, a work of art at ALL, if it doesn’t affect those who see/hear/feel/taste/touch it?

            This is why it pisses me off when he tells me it’s “Just a show”… it’s “Just characters, they’re not real.”

            No shit, Sherlock. (no offense to Sherlock in any of his incarnations, be they movie, book, TV show (hell yes I’m a fan. Bring it on BBC. And hell no, I still haven’t forgiven you for the end of Merlin. That one seriously hurt.)

            I know they’re figments of someone’s imagination.

            But you know what? Those figments are put forth into the world meant to inspire…

…to teach.

…to touch

…to move.

…to hurt.

To heal.

To convey human emotion, in all its sometimes painful, generally messy, sometimes ugly, sometimes beautiful, passionate, and sometimes horrendous glory.   

It was created by emotion-feeling people, for emotion-feeling people.

It was one person’s way of opening their heart and soul, laying it bare before our feet and saying “Here, come crawl into my brain and give me a moment of your time, and I share with you the endless galaxies that exist within my innermost heart and soul.”

            But don’t ask my husband.

            After all.

            “It’s only a TV show.”

avsongbird vlog #28- a long weekend

avsongbird vlog #27- just being candid, talking about writing and where...

avsongbird vlog #21 challenging myself and upcoming events

avsongbird vlog #20- the state of things in the songbird nest

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eHb1jopbRqY

For those of you who want to write or vlog

            I'm not going to lie and say it's easy to record and post some of the things I post, especially the one vlog where I broke down and cried-- that one was especially hard. It was hard to film, hard to play back and even harder to post it, knowing others might see it. But I knew I had to do it, no matter how hard it was for me to do so at the time. I wanted people to see me as a human being, and to know how much it means to me that they allow me to share my work with them. I love the people I'm meeting who are getting back to me. It's the most incredible experience I've ever had. And human emotions aren't always safe, they aren't always bright and shiny and sparkly and politically correct. But they're real, they're normal, they're healthy.

If you want to write, you should. I still go back to pen and paper sometimes because I love the feeling of the pen in my hand, and when I need to keep up with my head, I go to the computer. And sometimes it's just typing whatever comes into your mind that kicks your brain into gear. Give it a shot! Because trust me, you never know what you're capable of coming up with until you do it! And you don't have to do it for anyone but you. Writing is the most amazing therapy, it really is. Even if no one else ever reads it, do it for your sake first! Make yourself laugh, make yourself cry, and rage. Let yourself vent. Let yourself FEEL. You'll feel much better afterwards, after you get through the drained part after going through the storm that comes along with it. Trust me, I've been through the wringer sometimes for the sake of a good story. And if you ever need support with it, you know where to find me :-)

Going back- a drabble from my blog by avsongbird

a question and a request for all of you (and yes, some rambling too)

avsongbird vlog#18- the big project

avsongbird vlog # 17- date night! archives! challenged! Camping!

"on taking a long needed break, a step back, and a breath"- drabble read and discussed on my youtube channel

"To Be Understood"- a drabble/free-write from my blog read audiobook style on my youtube channel

Why would anyone read this No really lol

now that I think about it… where IS my pen- drabble from my blog read audiobook style on my youtube channel

Different types of writing-- and an epiphany, read audiobook style on my youtube

Pertaining to my organizational skills as a writer or lack thereof- a drabble by avsongbird, read audiobook style on my youtube

Writing should never be "safe"- drabble by avsongbird

Writing should never be "Safe"

               Writing should never be "safe". It's not meant to be. It doesn't have to be perfect, cookie-cutter. It's meant to break the rules, to elicit emotions.

               To change someone else's viewpoint, to open their eyes, to reach out through that page as a writer and to grab the attention and the heart of your reader, it can never be anything less, or you risk something vital being lost in the translation that happens between the person who first dreamed up the writing, then translated it from what they saw in their head onto paper (or computer), and the interpretation of the reader when they read it.

               And that's of course, not taking into account those of us who have to go through editing, publishing, republishing before the work gets out to whomever you choose to share it with.

               It all begins with a thought, an idea-- a flash in the dark that catches the writer's attention and holds it for a second.

               That second is all it takes to spark an idea in our minds, and suddenly, worlds are born, heroes are born, grow up, go to battle, marry, have children, and die old men and women.

               And it all happens in the flash of a second.

               Each and every story you write shines a spotlight on the characters that inhabit your mental stage-- whether they're human, cyborg, robot, hybrids, aliens, animals, rocks with wings that fart rainbow-colored sparkles.

               The point is, for a moment, you're shining a spotlight on something, on someone. When you're writing a story, poem, song, making a painting, a sculpture, taking a photograph--

               You found something that caught your attention long enough for you to want to draw someone else's attention to it, so that you can turn around and share in that moment, and that subject matter with someone else in turn, so you pour your heart and soul into your craft, putting in time and effort and work-- sweating, bleeding, creating-- and all the while feeling this underlying need to share your work with others.

               For a moment, when it's seen, read, viewed, listened to, you're sharing that moment in time with another human being, and whether they're standing in the room with you and you can see the expression on their face, or whether they're half a world away, seeing your work on the television, hearing it on the radio, seeing it on the computer or in a magazine, in a book-- they are sharing that moment with you.

               And it all began with that spark of inspiration that ignited a spark of creation in your brain.

               It began in excitement and epiphany and panic as you ran headlong to find paper, to find drawing tools, a camera, your laptop-- whatever tools you use to create whatever form of expression you use to express how you feel.

               It began with feeling. And no matter how many filters and layers and edits it goes through, it should never become anything less.

Some don't get it, and some never will.

            It's hard when the people in your life don't get it. When they see you throwing yourself headlong into something you're passionate about, and they flat out don't get it. They see the hours you put in (some of them), they see your work (some of it), your passion, and they turn and go about their day like they didn't see it. Like it didn't matter.
            And it's not that they're selfish, it's not that they don't care about you. You may be a vital part of their life.
            They just don't get it.
            They don't look at whatever it is your working on and see it the way you see it-- not just for what it is or what it will or won't be, but for what it could be, for the sheer possibility of what your work and your time and dedication and effort and passion could bring into your life.
            Maybe you'll make it, maybe you won't, but as long as you find yourself pursuing your passion-- following that star that only you can see-- there will always be people in your life that flat out won't get what you're doing, and every time you try to explain it to them they'll sit there and their eyes may glaze over or they may look at you like you have a third eye.
            Or like there's something they'd rather be doing than listening to you talk at any sort of length about whatever it is you're passionate about.
            And that's okay. Because there are people out there who will get it, and if you push long enough, hard enough, far enough, you may find those people, and suddenly you'll be glad for all those times you kept pushing even when you were the only person in your life who did "get it".
            And for all those times you ignored the voices of the people who never will.

Keep moving forward

It's incredible when you take the leap of faith and start putting yourself out there, and you find yourself meeting people from all over-- people who came across whatever work it was you put out there, whether it's a song, a poem, a story, a painting, a sculpture, any form of work of art or form of expression you chose to share.
I can think of no more suitable word than the word incredible for such a feeling as I find myself in that position. Here I am, just a housewife, a thirty-something nobody from the middle of nowhere posting whatever comes to mind, and I've met the most interesting people over the course of the last month or so-- some of them writers, poets, readers. Some of them would-be bloggers, people who wanted to put their work out there in some form, but were nervous about the thought of taking that one big step that would put them in the public eye.
I tell them the same thing I told myself a little over a month ago-- "Don't ask yourself why, because you'll find a million reasons why you shouldn't do it. Ask yourself 'why the hell not'?"
Dare to be yourself in this life, dare yourself to push yourself to the next level, to always be reaching, striving, pushing!
Don't talk yourself out of it or logic yourself out of it, because you'll cheat yourself out of incredible things-- things you couldn't even dream of.
Sitting here now, knowing how I feel as I read through my emails, my texts, my tweets, my facebook, reading notes and emails and comments from the people I've always known in my life, reading others from people I've never met (some I've talked to in one form or another, others I look forward to talking to)-- I'll never forget that feeling. It's a feeling I never thought I'd know in my life. Because however often I dreamed of sharing my writing with others, of putting myself out there and finding acceptance, of finding people who enjoyed what I do, I always found myself talking myself out of it-- telling myself I was a nobody from nowhere, that there was no way anyone would ever want to read anything that came out of my head.
I was having a conversation with someone tonight, a friend of mine from the past who just recently got back in touch with me, and we got talking about blogging, and what inspires us.
She told me she enjoys talking with me, and she said I was a "fountain of inspiration".
I almost cried when I read it. All my life, I've found inspiration everywhere-- in everything and everyone I've ever met. I've always hoped I would inspire other people, and I've always tried to do whatever I could to help others.
Hearing from someone that I inspire them? That touched me deeply, because it's something I've always wanted to do.
Sitting here a little over a month into the next phase in my life, hopefully the first phase in my life as a writer, I'm grateful for the past month-- for the nerves, and the fears I've come across, for the people I've met, and the friends I'm making, for the creative and inspiring and positive people I'm now coming into contact with in the knowledge that none of any of this would have been possible if I hadn't taken that first step on my own.
Have you taken yours? Don't ask yourself why you shouldn't take it, because you'll find a million reasons why you shouldn't take it, and you'll think of the people who are going to laugh at you, who will ridicule and mock you, who will hold their breath waiting for you to fail, and who may laugh if you do.
Don't tell yourself you're no one from nowhere, that your opinions and your talents don't matter, that no one will ever find merit in them. Because the truth is? You don't know that.
There may be someone out there somewhere who's sitting there, just like you-- who feels as you feel, who dreams as you dream, who fears just as you fear.
And they may be waiting for your influence, for your bravery, to inspire them.
Don't ask yourself why you should do it. Ask yourself "Why the hell not?"
And take that step.