Patricia Chase

Can you call yourself a writer if you don’t actually put words on paper? Maybe.
As a child, I loved to write. I would spend hours writing poems, plays, and stories. I had little notepads filled with whimsical scribbles tucked away in every corner I could find. As a teenager my writing found its home in a tiny flower-covered diary complete with a tiny incompetent lock. Collecting all of my secrets and fears, it was my written soul. But as the years passed, a series of traumatic events left me paralyzed within my world. I drowned into a life of fear which included a fear of putting my thoughts on paper.
One particularly painful time led a friend of mine to give me a blank journal. She wrote a beautiful inscription on the first page praising the value of writing down thoughts to help a person get through pain. I took the book to heart and began to write. As always, it was freeing and real, but sadly my reasons to fear the consequences of someone reading my words had great merit. I ripped the pages out of the book and did not put words on paper again for fifteen years. I did not, however, stop writing.
I wrote in secret and kept my words in a place no one would ever find them – my head. The next fifteen years were years of growth and with me was a constant companion narrating the trials within my mind. I would have conversations, give speeches, take notes, compile research, write novels, and pen poetry …. all in my head. I was always dreaming of dancing words and even perfected the little known art of air-typing. (I even air-backspace when I misspell something!)
In time I let go of most of those who instilled fear in me. Some were gone forever and some made changes to keep me in their life and slowly, I began to lose the fear of putting my words on paper. I began to be okay with being me. Just last year, I started writing again. At first I could not control the flow. I wanted to lock myself in a room with a keyboard and spend the rest of my life meticulously molding my each and every thought into written word. The words looked so beautiful staring back at me. All I wanted to do was write, and cry, and write, and smile, and write, and laugh. Eventually I found a balance and gave myself time each day to write something. In all honesty, I still keep my files hidden within my computer, but at least they are there.
A class I recently took forced me to let people read my words. Can anyone say fear? But, it feels good. Wow, someone is actually reading what I write.
So here are some of the things in my mind... enjoy and be kind. As Plato so brilliantly taught, everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.