The Writer Sessions #1
Place: The Casa
Purpose: The Writer Sessions (ramped up by NaNoWriMo)
Participants: Me, myself and I (Although I do have some ride-or-die girlfriends who are working it out on their own terms elsewhere in the City Beautiful)
So, did I mention somewhere along the line after it gets dark, this writer fancies herself a burgeoning novelist? You see, while I’m pursuing this blessed DASHEEN thing, and working ever so diligently behind the scenes, with folks so much smarter than myself to see it through to its full potential, I’ve also been working on other important and life-affirming things.
What could be so important that it has taken up every bit of my mind this month: Well, I’m writing my 1st novel!!!!
Walking into my destiny is what it feels like and I am high stepping—Naturally!
I’ve been imagining this one—as yet untitled for a little over two years now, when the seeds were first planted as the poem Boy (Piano). And if I were to tell it all, when I’m trying to get an idea out, it feels so much more secure and real, if and when it comes through in some poetic form first. I love how it can begin there, a simply haiku, or maybe some free verse with the ultimate license to change and become anything—even a play.
The art of wrting… Yes! So, there was something there with that Boy…, but I didn’t touch it at all until NaNo 2009, where I thought: Maybe. Just maybe this thing could also fly.
Since then, I’ve been writing, not so diligently, but, but… I L O V E how exercisingwhat in my life represents a gift—God-given and driven make me feel so vital!
I bless God for DASHEEN and NaNo, as they have both served to encourage me in the understanding of writing as discipline and not just art.
Currently, I am multitasking here (posting) and there (writing), while Faceboking and vibing to Stephen Marley’s Mind Control interspersed with his brother Ziggy Marley’s classic Love is My Religion album. It’s the perfect mesh, familiar to me and these characters and so the words are flowing everywhere.
My encouragement to writers:
Don’t stop. DON’T STOP! Don’t ever stop, not even when you’re told to, or even when you think you have it in you to hate what’s on the page. You are a vessel. You don’t necessarily control the pour of the energies, the direction of the flow, or the hot, or the cold, or the lukewarm.
Your only responsibility:
To be available and ever ready.
The following is an excerpt of my Boy… And no, I am not afraid, for if someone can take this next and make it magical, I could almost bring myself to give you permission to. Besides that, stealing is so NOT sexy!
After the prison of gray and Freud, the blaze at half-past dead should have made more of an impression. He should have been undone by any and all of it. It should have absolutely brought him to his knees.
Instead, he stands tall, a peacock’s pride apparent in the mix of island swell and adopted New York swagger. He is flanked, quite obstinately, two feet in the back, by men he does not know. They didn’t see fit to introduce themselves and he couldn’t see past their disapproving glances to care one iota. Their only attempt at fraternity—black formal tails, tuxedo shirts with stiff ties, the buffed patent leather that traps their feet, and the pristine white gloves that play accompaniment.
They remind him of a chain gang revival, even as he might have placed himself afar off riveted. And they looked the part, these men who had sized him up immediately as useless, telling him to follow, when he should have led, regardless of his best wishes.
Copyright © Tynisha C. Leon 11/12/2010
He has yet to be named. I mean he’s been “Boy” for so long. What to call the man?? We’ll see what comes.
My enduring thanks to the ones (small cheering section that they are) who already believe I can move mountains and will be standing in line somewhere just because) xo