Pet Monologues

Have you figured out what you are? I know that you have no idea who I am, but I too am having trouble comitting to my passions. Wondering how you have come out of it?

M

NorahH said:

So I’ve been sitting here for a solid hour and a half, maybe more, glossed over and staring at the screen in an attempt to write something without deleting it 4 seconds later. After writing over 60 pages in the past two weeks, I’d like to blame it on finals, but this has always been my problem — the failure to confidently plop down words on paper without the expectation of further failure.

It’s completely counterproductive, I know, writing and writing with nothing to show for it, which explains why my portfolio consists of a meager handful of poems and Spoken Word pieces (despite the fact that I never claim being a poet, it seems that’s all I can attest to). There’s a folder of half finished short stories I’m too afraid to touch, a collection of slightly above average blog posts for inspiration, and a love letter I wrote to an ex-boyfriend that I’d never let anyone read, but nevertheless remains one of my better pieces.

I am not a writer. I say the words aloud to hear how it sounds. I am not a writer. Writers write. I only talk about writing. I am a failed writer — a failed creative writer, at least. Newspaper articles and columns I have up the wazoo, that much is true. I am a journalist. But I am not a writer in the sense that I want to be.

It might be that writing as a journalist has impeded my ability to write creatively. I fear letting emotion flow freely through my words because I fear others will correctly interpret those feelings, and because of that I have come to fear words loaded with personal bias. Only recently I’ve been able to admit that I’m more emotional than I like to think, and as a reporter that bears all sorts of eyebrow-raising implications.

I know in part it’s because I’m afraid, period. Mostly afraid that everyone thinks I’m some emo MySpace-esque blogger who thinks she can write but can’t, which is frankly why I put so much time and effort into sounding rational and removing myself from the colloquial. I depend on the praise of others in a way that is crippling. You are my crutch, readers, especially a select few of you whose opinions matter more than they should, and I’m scared that you think I suck, quite plainly. You see, I am as needy for your hearts as I am your eyes.

At any rate, for all those reasons and then some, I’ve stopped writing — here and elsewhere — altogether.

I am not a writer. It really hurts to say those words. For a long time now, I’ve lusted after finishing a solid story, yearned for that final connection between words and essence. But I’ve realized I can’t commit. I’m too afraid to put my whole heart in it, and this stigma of being emotional stalks every sentence. I think I am being far too emotional right now, even. So until I come to terms with it, sorry. Loving something isn’t quite the same as being good at something. I just can’t commit.

So if I’m not a writer, what am I? Not occupationally but essentially speaking, that is. It’s hard to tell. All I know is: I’m not the great literary-artist-in-the-making I thought I was.

I’m just crazy Zelda who’ll never be as good as the original Fitzgerald.  

found at http://witandspit.blogspot.com/2006/12/i-am-not-writer.html

In 12th grade, after returning from a year as an exchange student in Brazil, I ran into an interesting stumbling block in honors English. "Nancy, you are a functional illiterate!" That was my teacher’s pronouncement. I could master the content, but my writing was sub-par. I don’t know why I granted this teacher so much power, but this hung over my head for years. I am simply not a writer, I told myself. And I avoided writing at every turn.

To interact online we are all writers. We may not be poetic, or to the point. We may have sloppy grammar or spelling. Our turn of phrase may be inelegant. But we are communicating with each other through text, so we are all writers. Maybe not Writers with a capital "W." But writing is our most powerful tool.

As online facilitators we must be fluent. We have to be able to sit down at a keyboard and use our fingers to communicate. Like an offline facilitator who has to develop his or her public speaking skills, we have to develop our writing. We must learn to write with as many "voices" as we use offline. Quiet, direct, energetic, reflective — all of them.

Here are some approaches:

* Use some basic offline writers tricks to develop fluidity and style such as keeping a daily journal. The point is write something every day.
* Participate in any online groups that interest you — maybe something about a hobby or interest area — and post something every day.
* Note the style of writers who convey ideas well, or who capture "feeling." Examine their approaches.
* Ask a buddy to critique your writing.
* Force yourself to practice different styles and voices.
* For intercultural groups, practice simple or "Global" English.

Our writing is our voice, our body language. As an instrument to a musician, our writing (along with our technological tools) are our medium for expression.
For further resources see: Facilitating Online Learning : Effective Strategies for Moderators by George Collison, Bonnie Elbaum, Sarah Haavind, Robert Tinker. There is an extensive section on online voice.

Copyright 2003 Nancy White, Full Circle Associates