it’s not a thing
it’s not an it, either.
A voice in your head
A word on the page
A song in your head that goes around and around and around and around and
It has teeth like a Great White, and the tenacity of a teenager,
Write me write me write me writemewritemeyouknowyouneedtowriteme NOW
It’s characters who demand to be heard
It's scenes so vivid you can touch the flames,
It's desperation and frustration, pleasure and treasure, celebration and condemnation
You’re a writer but you’re not in charge
No no no no no no no, you think you're in charge?
You're not. Not really.
You do what you’re fucking told
You have a muse,
a fat cow of an alternative self who wants more now not in ten
It’s not about numbers
About reviews and favourites
Books sold and poems printed
Best seller lists and critical opinions
And what the teacherrevieweryourbetayourbestfriendove
That’s Not Why You Write.
It’s not about followers and
It’s about words
The subtle dip and dive of language
Sweet conversations in bed, angry rages in lifts,
Hollywood glamour and eighteen hour days slaving in a sweatshop,
Pakistan and Britain, China and America,
Mad men and brave men
Wives and women and lovers and fighters and haters
Voices of your own creations
Moving between points of view that feels like dipping the wing of a hawk
A sudden miscalculation sending you
Crash and burn
Set fire to the paper
Magnetize the hardrive
The delete button is never that far away and you're back
Stare at blank pages,
and it's all there to be filled.
Never said it would be easy
But rebuild it
Start it again
Set the scene,
Find your character,
your little puppet to pull the strings of and make them waltz
find your voice in this tangled web of lies and pain and hurt and
hold it tight to your chest because it's so precious and it's so smalll
And set it free
Give them love and replace it with heartbreak
Tear their beliefs in two and tell them it’s okay to have faith
Rock them to sleep and steal their children while Morpheus guards them
Give them a house, and rip it down around their ears
Take away the safety net and tell them that it’s stronger than ever
But write it.
Etch it into your soul with a biro and a cheap mug of coffee for ink
Give it strength and give it weakness
but bring it home.
(Originally submitted for assessment at Bangor University, School of Creative Writing, under the name Rebecca Rayner, but now extended and posted for personal entertainment.)