the writer and the fat suit

Some things are hard to explain.

Some times analogies are needed. They don’t stretch all the way; they don’t fit entirely, but they help a bit.

Here’s mine for today.

Sometimes I feel like the writer in me exists in a fat suit. Tightly bound in layer upon layer, restricting easy movement (I feel a bit like that as an ME/CFS sufferer too, but let’s not spread the analogy too widely for now).

The writer in me hisses and sparks, wriggles and flares. The writer in me is constantly brewing (or percolating, if you prefer coffee). The writer in me surfs the wave, experiencing the heady thrill of discovery, the need to express what lies within.

But my zippy, heady writerly self is encased in something. Something very like a fat suit. Something that makes it so hard to express these sparkly, elegant ideas that often they can’t get through the outside, uncooperative shell. Partly tiredness. Perhaps with a nice distraction/mediocrity blend. Packed full of the other stuff I feel I should do, or haven’t done and probably won’t do for all my guilt-tripping about it.

I wish I could break out more often, but I often fail, scrabbling ineffectually at the inside of my fat suit. And so much lies wasted within. It’s there but it needs squeezing out, drop by drop, unless there’s a glorious moment where the flow is untapped and eureka! I remember how much I love her, that writer inside. But to even have a chance of releasing her, I need to scrabble and scrabble, pulling myself away from my world of distraction, navigating through lesser, mediocre habits and finally finding that point where she can escape and be who she is.

Can anyone relate to this?

Advertisements

3 thoughts on “the writer and the fat suit

  1. The last four words, be who she is, really resonated with me. The important thing in life is to live the life we were born to live; be the person we were born to be.
    I’ve wanted to be a writer since I was a child but to know whether that ambition is realised means knowing what definition is put on the word. And that is much under debate.
    Sometimes I am convinced by the argument that as I write, I must be a writer. Other times I think that much depends on what I write and what happens to what I write – is it ever read? If not, does it count?
    I f I wrote longhand I would call 90% of what I write ‘scribbling’ but is there a word for electronic, typed scribble?
    I used to think that real life got in the way of writing – I think that is what you are mainly talking about – but more recently it is the scribble – the stuff that comes from within and simply has to express even if it is never going to communicate.
    Being who you are born to be will include communicating what you were born to communicate. That may be done through writing; it may be done through other means.
    Writing may be a form of communication; it may be creative expression – maybe even scribble can be that?

Comments welcome!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s