From the Desk of…E.J. Perez
I’ve been creating stories since I was ten years old. I’m now sixty-three years of age.
I AM IN MY PRIME! Ha!
My body just doesn’t know it. I don’t know why I love writing. I don’t know why I love putting words down, and creating a world of imagination. Who would want to do that? The pain and frustration that comes with that. The loneliness.
I’ve tried so many times to steer away from this ridiculous idea of writing stories. Do other things I’d tell myself. Or stay busy, like have two fulltime jobs for over 20 years. Yikes! I cringe at the thought.
And yet. During that time. I was writing. I had a little pocket notebook and wrote my ideas. From scenes to world building. I was tired, sleep deprived. And the ideas kept popping into my noggin. Dammit!!
I can’t describe the feeling of having ideas pop into your head, and you try to push it away with some form of distraction. BUT! Those ideas kept coming. I would see something or read about a subject matter, and voila’, the ideas would materialize.
I would sometimes pray, (yes, actually pray) those ideas would go away. The NEED to write would go away. It didn’t. You know why I prayed this need to write would go away? Because I didn’t think or I knew I didn’t have the talent to write.
So, I found a way to shut down those creative ideas. WRITE THEM DOWN! That’s it. It was as if my brain, understood and the pestering of those ideas stopped, the fire hydrant was turned off. The only thing is…more ideas kept popping up. I would jot them down. I would promise myself. When I had the time, I’d make the world building and the stories into a complete book. Some of those ideas were already full stories. They just weren’t refined. Edited.
And then…as I got older, and slowed down with double shifts. I began to write. I published my first book in 2017/2018. I wrote the book in one month. I had the ideas, the scenes, the chapters. It was quick. Somewhat painless. And…the book was out! Yes! Out of my head. Out into the world. I was on cloud 10! I had delusions of euphoria. My story would become a hit. The adulation would come in.
Crickets! That’s all I got. Crickets. Nothing came about my book. Yes, I know. I really didn’t promote it. I just published it, hoping word of mouth would start a tidal wave of purchases. But no…Crickets! Maybe an owl. Damn those owls.
At first, I had the imposter syndrome come calling. He was behind me, whispering in my ear. Giving me all the reasons to stop writing. He began to be everywhere. I couldn’t get him out of my head. My doubts, insecurities were starting to take over every part of my thinking. I became embarrassed of my writing, shame was creeping in from around the corner. I still see you shame. You bastard!
But it didn’t deter from the ideas in my noggin to keep popping in. It was as if those ideas were telling me to ignore Mr. Imposter, ignore shame. Ignore them all. My need to write was stronger than the feel of shame or Mr. Imposter Syndrome looking at me in the mirror. I hate mirrors. My need to write as oppose to my want to write. I’ve always thought I wanted to write. “Someday I’ll write a book,” I would think. Or I would tell myself. “Yes, I want to write a book.” Ha! Load of crap. You know how I found out I needed to write? When that ‘Idea-world-building-note-taking,’ isn’t enough for your brain. When your brain is constantly reminding you, “BOOK! Write book!”
When it’s consuming your every thinking that you can’t relax without the thought of the story in your head, jabbing at your brain reminding you, ‘a story needs to be told.’ ‘This story needs to be published.’
I have tinnitus. A constant sound in my ears. For me. My tinnitus is the sound of a gas leak, or a voltage sound as you get near an electrified fence. It’s hindering. At times its consuming. It’s slowed down my creativity. But I’ve eventually managed to control it. Ignore it. It still comes in loud and overwhelming. Damn you, tinnitus.
The reason I mentioned tinnitus, is my need to write is like tinnitus. Always in my head. Never going away. My need to write has given my tinnitus a supporting role. When I write, the tinnitus is there, but my writing has overpowered the sound. Ha! I got you tinnitus. You rat bastard!
And so, to reiterate…it’s not a want anymore. It never was. Not for me. It’s a need. And I understand that now. My need is greater than that imposter syndrome feeling. The need to get my story out. Published. The need to write my ideas into the form of a book. A story. The need to write is strong in me.
But I’ve learned to control it and feed it. My ideas keep coming in, and my brain (subconscious) knows it’s going to be eventually put out into the world. So, the constant hammering of “BOOK. PUBLISH BOOK.” It’s subsided.
There are many times I wish I was a mechanic, cook, construction worker, professional athlete or famous actor? (Ha. I can dream). Creating something from my brain and making it into a fiction story and getting readers to read it? Scary. Relying on other people to make you financially successful? Yikes. But my need is stronger than that.
My need is stronger than being financially successful. Wait! Scratch that…I didn’t mean that last one. Seriously edit it out.
Non-Deficere! E.J. Perez