Don’t Be Like Emily
There was a time when I thought that writers just sat down and the words flowed from their minds unimpeded. Gems of ideas would leap to the page, complete and unaltered. I was in awe of their abilities, and since I often struggled to express myself via the written word, I figured that I wasn’t creative and so I didn’t try. I wasted years believing a lie.
Growing Up, Reading Was My Favorite Escape.
My home life was unsettled and books offered the opportunity to retreat into my imagination. Fortunately, once my father realized that I was a reader, something he approved of, he signed me up for a book club. No Amazon delivery today will ever match the excitement of receiving those monthly packages. I would tear into them and sink into the world of Trixie Belden, Girl Detective, or the Happy Hollisters.
I quickly read my way through Louisa May Alcott and the like. For me, books became entertainment, education, and a coping mechanism. Despite having a love of literature and a pretty good vocabulary, it never occurred to me that I could write. My mother said that when I was five or six, when asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I would announce “an author”. But for some reason, I never tried.
I started college with no clear plan. Once past the general requirements, I began taking a variety of literature classes. Chaucer and Shakespeare were the hooks that led me to declare English Literature as my major. I spent the next 3 years immersed in great works, formulating a plan to earn my Master’s and then my doctorate so that I could live in academia forever. My only hesitation was that I knew my professors had to publish in their field and I was sure I couldn’t write. I often wonder if this was the real reason I abandoned my dream.
Turning Points
Life happened, as it always does, and the years passed. I didn’t pursue my goal of escaping into academia. My path took me in different directions. About twenty years after college and twenty years ago from now, I became friends with a marvelous writer. I would lament my lack of talents and how I just wasn’t creative. She finally got sick of this litany and gave me a gift that would change everything, “The Artist’s Way” by Julia Cameron. Using the exercises in this book, I started to sit each day and write for ten or fifteen minutes. Just sit and write. No judgment, no criticism. It was hard but I pushed through. I still believed I couldn’t write, but it started the spark that would eventually lead me to try. Every morning I would rise earlier than the rest of the household and write. I thought that everything I came up with was crap but I figured it was good discipline.
Around this time, I watched a poet speak on PBS. Her poetry was fascinating. Suddenly, I wanted to write a poem. So I did. And then another and another and another. Before I knew it, I had a stack. My same writer friend encouraged me to try and get published. Although I was hesitant, I remembered Emily Dickinson and decided I didn’t want to end up like her. All of her marvelous poems were discovered in a dresser after her death and were published posthumously. Now I’m not comparing myself to Dickinson, but I wanted my work to be read. Fingers crossed, I started mailing the poems out to several small indie publications. Imagine my shock when several were accepted. The chances to participate in local poetry readings opened up, and swallowing my stage fright, I jumped into it.
Over the last twenty years, I started a novel, but discovered I like to write shorter pieces and switched to short stories. One of those was published, too. Scene description isn’t one of my strengths but I love dialogue. It was time to try playwriting. The ten-minute play format has been a Godsend. Short, sweet and to the point. Ten pages and done. Several have been produced but many more have been rejected. Most recently, I started writing short monologues and have had some success there, too. I figure with my love of brevity, I’ll eventually look for a way to say it all with one word! I also compose music and now find myself collaborating with some wonderfully talented musicians as a lyricist.
Reflections
By now, you may be wondering if the entire purpose of this entry is to brag about my successes. Trust me, it’s not. No one is more surprised at the flow of creativity than I am. Why now instead of forty years ago? I don’t know. Sometimes, I regret not creating for so many years. Perhaps I would’ve written crap and given up. I know writers and musicians whose talent and abilities far exceed what I’ll ever have. On good days, I think kindly of myself. On bad days, I consider myself a fraud and am just waiting for someone to discover I have no talent at all.
For all the creating I do, I still have to go to a regular office job. My art hasn’t paid off yet. It may never do so. With each acceptance, I’m over the moon. With each rejection, a little of my confidence is chipped away. So, if I’m not making a living as a writer/playwright/poet/lyricist what have you, why do I do it? Because the words want to come out. The characters beg to speak. The songs ask to be sung. I may never be rich and famous. My plays may never make it to Broadway or songs get published. Even if this is the case, I’ve achieved my initial goal. My work isn’t shoved in some drawer, waiting to be thrown away once I’m gone.
Want to paint? Do it. Want to write, sing, dance, learn a musical instrument? Go ahead. Your vision deserves a place to thrive. My voice has been heard. I can’t wait to hear yours.
Julie Brandon lives in Downers Grove, IL. In between creating something new, she works as an administrative assistant. She’s been known to write at work when no one is looking.
To read more from Julie, check out:
Publications:
Poeticamagazine May 2021: “A Covenant Remembered”
Bewildering Stories: Issue 901 “A is not for apple” 5/3/21
Corner Bar Magazine: 2017 Volume 2 Number 6 “The Last One In”
The Awakenings Project: Spring 2011 Vol. 5 Number 2
Sept. 2009 (Under Julie Paige)
Poetica Magazine, Contemporary Jewish Writing
JUF News - March 2021 - “Pesach with Miriam”
Shemom (print)
Love’s Last Chance (print)