A copy photograph of the portrait painted by Oscar Halling in the late 1860′s of Edgar Allan Poe.
God willing, I will have a 7th Anniversary of being clean and sober on May 26th of this year. I haven’t been blogging consistently, and I am truly sorry for that. I have so much stuff going on in terms of kids, other writing obligations and “life stuff.”
But for now, I am going to focus on the writing aspect of my life. Pull up a chair and a cup of your favorite beverage if you wish.
I started writing around the age of nine or ten I guess. I remember writing my first book report about “The Tell-Tale Heart” by Edgar Allen Poe in grade school. I fell in love with the story, and Poe, and looked forward to writing more book reports (yes I was a geeky child)! I started keeping a diary and wrote silly little stories about my friends inside.
As I grew and matured (using that term loosely), I stopped writing unless it was a letter in school to one of my BFF’s or a boy.
In my early twenties, I actually wrote my first novel. It is unpublished to this date and only a lone printed, bound copy remains. Most of that novel was written while drunk because I inherently felt I could only write when I was chemically altered.
Fast forward about four years and I decided to go to college at night as an English Major and wound up switching my major to Behavioral Health with a focus on addiction for the rest of my term. Ironic.
So I wrote off and on, off and on for a number of years. I kept many journals and diaries both hard copy and internet bound. I wrote a lot of poetry. Dark disturbing words (again always drunk and angry) I wrote steady over the course of a week. I wrote about 130 poems in those seven days. That is floating around somewhere as well.
I even had one published in a local newspaper!
Here it is:
Reality and fantasy, truth and lies.
When I’m awake I forget real, and fantasize.
When I speak my mind, I speak it well.
When I talk back, I listen even better.
When I hear other voices, I try to ignore.
Don’t tell me what to say, don’t tell me what to do.
I’m done listening to you; all you speak is tainted.
I’m stained with lies, marked by deceit.
My eyes are wicked, my grin is cold.
You look at me, but you can’t look long.
You’re so weak. Ha!
Try to tell me you’re strong.
I laugh so loud inside, you can’t hear me.
But I can.
Reality and fantasy, I like to fantasize.
Reality is too much for me, I like my peace.
I like to be alone whenever I can.
So no one hears my whispers as I answer myself…
Again and again.
That is my first official published piece of anything. I remember how excited I felt. My mom got a bunch of the papers and framed a copy of the poem for me. That copy sits on my dresser today and I look at it sometimes because I get caught up in life stuff and my dreams slip away.
So that’s it for me… for now. Hope everyone is doing well.. maybe you’d like to tell me what is going on in your neck of the woods? I’d sure like to hear about you!
