The writer’s voice inside my head is getting annoying.
A thousand years ago, I wrote poetry. I always knew when a poem was about to bubble up to the surface and demand to be written because lines of verse would start injecting themselves into my normal thought stream. I wasn’t so much inspired to write the poem as much as I was beaten into submission by the nagging voice inside my head.
And then, for years, the voice was squelched. I
had to got to write a lot for work – not always about things that mattered to me, but enough that the writerly brain muscles got regular exercise, even if it was the literary equivalent of a moderately paced walk on a treadmill. For the better part of a decade I had not the least desire to write anything for myself, or just for the sake of writing. The voice was quiet.
And now it’s back. Not demanding poetry this time – THANK GOD – but demanding that I write. When I’m in the shower it replays funny things the kids have said or done and editorializes them into witty recounts or moving essays. When I’m reading articles and blogs by my favorite online writers it interrupts between paragraphs saying you could do this too, you know, if you just got over yourself.
I tried to shut it up with Twitter, thinking I could send short thought-bursts out into the vacuous internet whenever the urge struck, and I think this actually worked for a while, but the voice is still there, bolder now, wanting a larger platform and totally over the 140-character limit.
Starting a blog is me giving in to the voice, which is really me giving myself permission to do what I know I am capable of doing, which is really me getting to the place where I both want others to read what’s in my head and also care not whether they do.
It’s also me saying OK FINE I WILL WRITE DOWN WHAT YOU SAY NOW SHUT THE HELL UP to the voice.
We’ll see if this works.