Monday was a very low-key day. I went to a Barnes and Noble to work on my novel. Overall, I felt like I had a good writing day. Plus, I finished my night with Castle, which is always fun.
Today, I went back to The Town Where I Used to Live. It wasn’t a long visit, but I was there long enough to realize that there were subtle changes to the town. It felt familiar and weird all at the same time. In this Town Where I Used To Live, there were good times and bad times. For the longest time, I could only remember the bad times. But as I went around the town, I remembered that this was where I began writing my novel. Or at least where my dream of writing a novel began.
I learned today that if I never experienced the bad times, I wouldn’t have as much writing fuel or may not have had any writing fuel whatsoever. If Buffy taught me anything, it was that even when the drama hurt, it was necessary to move the story forward. And as long as the audience is entertained and left wanting more or at least satisfied, it’s okay. It’s basically the healthiest form of sadomasochism a human being can endure, really.
Right now, I’m approaching the end of my poem-a-day challenge at Writer’s Digest. I found that the poems that my most personal poems were the ones I got the most comments on. I wrote about having a haircut last year, having insomnia, being hurt numerous times, following the yellow brick road, personal loss, rain, and being alone.
It fascinated me that the poems that revolved around my pain had comments. I think it goes beyond the stereotype of the tortured artist/poet, though. I think everyone has felt pain at some point and when someone puts that pain in words, it establishes a connection. I write to help myself connect with other people.
I’m gonna write about what else happened today tomorrow, as part of my overall recap of my adventures in California.