I never wanted to become a writer. It was something that just happened to me. One day, I simply couldn’t keep it in any longer. I had to express the way the world made me feel. But, even without the physical act of writing, it was something I was already doing.
See to me, writing is a process of opening. It’s taking a moment, observing it, and and pressing it open. To peer inside the intricacies of a new world. Filled with fissures and sparks.
I began to realize my natural sensibilities tuned themselves to writing. How I’d much rather take the scenic route while driving, avoiding freeways. How I eat slowly, closing my eyes (and moaning lol) to savor each bite. How I love taking long, aimless walks and being surprised by a series of synchronicities woven in the air. I’ve begun to understand a long walk is no different than a long sentence. They are both things you must remain open and observant to see where they may take you. It’s being in discussion with the invisible.
I think a lot about the role of the writer. How writers, to me, feel disrespected. Especially, poets. It could be personal. I could be personalizing all of this. But, it makes me angry that the people who I believe see the world most beautifully, feel there is a slim chance they are able to make a living from it.
A few years ago, when I made the conscious choice to be a writer instead of an actress, I grew weary at my career options. I was going from one unstable career to an even more unstable career. Especially with the type of writing I gravitate to. Poetic, abstract, lyrical. It was like asking to be broke for the rest of my life.
But, I’ve always believed there was a way.
When I decided to be writer, I decided that meant I would have to write a book. But, I’ve never wanted to write a book. It wasn’t something that particularly called to me. I never wanted to be a writer, period. Writing was just a symptom of something. It was a symptom of my own aliveness. There simply came a point I could not be alive any longer without expressing what I was feeling through words. Writing is not just pen to paper for me — it is breathing. It is living. It means I’m here.
So, for the past 4 years I’ve struggled with writing a book. I just can’t seem to do it. The motor is not in my engine. My love for writing has not dissipated, in fact it’s only grown and I’ve only been able to access more power from it. But, I’ve had to understand, maybe what I really want, is something else.
See, if writing is a symptom of something — it means there’s something else I should be doing along with it.
When I think of myself as a child, I always wanted to be everything. I didn’t just want to be a singer. I wanted to be an actress. A dancer. A hair stylist. A comedian. I wanted to be everything. Some super-pop star hybrid artist. Those dreams never really left me (except being a comedian and a hair stylist).
When writing came to me, I was in a moment of so much heartache with acting. Because I was never booking anything, I began to believe I would perpetually be witness to other people living out my desires. All I wanted was to be in touch and flowing with the vibrancy of living and be able to express that. When writing came to me, it was as if the wind nudged me to turn instead towards the pen. It was there I felt everything I had wanted to feel as an actress. Flowing and in command of my destiny.
If you’re a writer — whether you’ve published something or not — it means you are connected to to the fibers that connect all of us here on Earth. You are a master at feeling and language. You are able to concoct substances from the two. Whatever you decide to do will be touched by those alchemical things. Because writing is not just writing. It is an act of opening.
I think about all the writers here on Substack. I’m not going to lie, many of us seem aimless. A lot of us seem to pretend to know what we’re doing. Some of us like to attack others or perch themselves atop one other to decide what writing is or isn’t.
But, what I think is the most special thing is the fact that we’re all here. We’re writers and we’re discussing writing and we finally have this place here on the internet. And we’re not sure what to do with it, but we’re eager and we’re spinning out to see what can be possible. People want something different here. They don’t want the same things other social media apps are feeding us. We want real and true feeling. And when you chorale people together, who have the same needs, who have the same desires — things begin to change.
With the impending collapse of entertainment industries across mediums, the rise of the independent creator has been where our collective focus has been pointed to. So, what does this mean for writers? What does this mean for us? And our books? And our audiences? What does this mean for the way we connect with the world?
For me, I’ve never subscribed to the idea of the recluse writer who releases a book every few years and then falls back into obscurity. Unfortunately, I want to be a Star™. And if my words are front and center, I will be right there with them.
I don’t want to just write a book. I want to write an experience. I want to craft a story so multi-sensory it has no choice but to bleed into other mediums. Thus, solidifying my childhood belief of being a multimedia superpopstar artist. Except now the artistry is tied together by the act of writing.
If I sound crazy, I don’t care. It feels good to believe in something and say it out loud. Especially when it’s about yourself. Call this a confirmation.
I don’t think it’s an accident that I didn’t make it as an actress. I don’t think it’s an accident that I feel bored at the idea of writing solely book. I don’t think it’s an accident that I want to break the idea of what a writer is. I don’t think it’s an accident that we’re all here on this platform right now wondering what it is we should do. Eager and hungry and waiting.
The world is so bleak right now. I believe it needs the hands of writers. The hands of those who observe. The hands of those who are able to open.
I believe the future will be led by those with poetic minds. The world is in dire need of new narratives. Intuitive meaning-makers who point us towards the invisible things the leaders of our societies turn their heads from. Of not only the injustices, but the sublime beauty missing in the grand scheme of our lives. We need writers to help us contextualize what we’re going through without a sense of doom and give us the imaginative keys of envisioning futures where are alive, vibrant, connected, and feeding one other.
If writing is the act of opening the inside of a story, how different is it to open our lives?
Call me an eternal optimist, I just think that if you’re a writer you have the innate power to change what someone sees. You have the power to change what someone sees with just a string of sentences. Think of that power. Think of everything the world is not seeing. Think of what you can show. A sentence is the most powerful structure in the world.
What are you seeing that the world does not know of?
I just think the role of the writer has changed in 2024. The role of writer in 1904, compared to 1994, compared to now, are all so different. Yet, in ways, you could say they are the same. A writer plants within you an experience. It’s like magic.
But, I believe our outputs have to change. The way we package our talents have to be different. If writers spent less time trying to fit the mold of traditional publishing success, and instead looked out towards the unknown, looked out towards what a new future for writers could look like, I believe behemoth things could happen.
I’m still understanding what those things could be.
As for me, my view is pointed there towards the glimmering dark.
All I know, is that my writing will not just be writing. It will be everything. It will be the way I show you the inside of my electric world.
🤎
You’re my favorite writer. And I’m so proud of you.