A Writer's Curse

A woman's writing starts to control her. Will she continue to allow it to rule her life? Or will she let go and allow emotions back in her life? What she doesn't know is giving up her life of writing will give her back her life.

Being a writer had always been her dream. But she hesitated to put her pen to the paper, or her thoughts down on the page. It was almost as if she was scared to let her feelings be shown in plain sight; scared of being ridiculed for her feelings. Afraid everything she said would be taken the wrong way or twisted beyond recognition.

 

But as with all writers, the words must come out and she put aside her feelings, and broke out. She wrote for herself, and even if no one else cared about them, she was proud. She never finished the following work, but it was how she felt.

 

"On the outside, she was strong. Nellie seemed to be a fearless girl, ready to take on the world. But by herself in the comfort of her own room, she crumbled. She would sit, hour after hour huddled in the corner of her room, a blanket wrapped tightly around her body. And she would dream. Dream of someone who would hold her, care about her; be strong for her so she would not have to.

 

"She was tired of being strong. Everyone looked to her for support and guidance, but she wasn't made for that. But she had to pretend, go on with her life, living the life of someone that didn't exist. That in itself was her demise. Because she had to be strong, she pressed away the man that she hoped to love. Well known for her strength, she friends set up a blind date for her.

 

"Surprisingly he really enjoyed her company, when she was the quite timid girl he first met. However, when she was around everyone else, she talked loud and acted cocky. This hypocrisy turned John away from her before he ever came close to finding the real woman behind all the actions. A part of her died when John rejected her; the other part of her had died long ago. So she kept on living the false front of her life hoping she could do something to prove herself to him, show him her true self..."

 

No one would ever realize this was written from her life. Inside she was weak and in need of love and protection, which no one offered to her. For all her life, she kept that emotion in her life locked up. Carefully guarded under her pretentious charade, she lived all but void of feeling.

 

Once she began to release her emotional starvation for love, other emotions came to the fore front also. Anger became commonplace with her, done away with was the kind though strong girl her friends knew. Instead she picked word fights, became irritable and pushed away the few acquaintances she had.

 

But through it all, she continued to write. She created strong, courageous women she wished she could be if the circumstances showed themselves. She molded strong, protecting men she felt would care and love the women in her stories. Her stories became popular and sold by the hundreds. Others too wanted to be strong but be loved for having tenderness.

 

Finally driven to the edge, she began her greatest story, part of which was copied above. The heroine paralleled her exactly, from her habits to her thoughts. And the man in the story was strong, kind and loved her unconditionally. She strove hard to perfect the man on her paper. As the ink flowed from her pen to the paper, she began to think he was real. She talked to him, and he answered her. She loved him and he returned her love.

 

Once she became so involved in the story she began to be jealous of the heroine. The very girl molded after herself was diverting her man's attention. She flirted with him and talked the author down. Something snapped in her mind and she grabbed the pages ripping them. "There take that," she yelled at the heroine, "I created you, I can destroy you. Now he's mine alone, no one else can have him."

 

Again she took up her pen, forever forgetting the heroine and directly talking to the man. But now he was distant, on longer did he understand her need to be loved and protected. He saw her only as she was, weak and unstable. "No, don't leave me;" she wrote to her beloved, "I can't live without you."

 

"You've created and destroyed, written and torn apart, but you can't heal yourself," the pen wrote, speaking for her man. "You can go on living, but not this way. You can't love me and still live. It isn't me you love, it your writing. When you pen words, you are in control. Everything happens as you direct, unlike in your life. You can't be strong on the outside and expect everyone to cater to your needs. Life isn't like that. Once you learn to accept that, you can finally live and love for real."

 

The pen in her hand stopped. Again she read the words she had written. At that moment she put down her pen, never to pick it up again. "This is what I've kept bottled up inside of me all this time," she spoke for the first time in a long while. "I will let go." Quickly she assembled all of her work and drove out to a cliff near her house. She slowly stepped out of her car and carried the papers with her to the edge of the rocks. Hundreds of feet below her was the ocean. Waves crashed against the rocks and she shuddered. Could she really go through with this? Closing her eyes she let go.

 

Down, the pages fell. And in her thoughts she fell too, until a strong arm caught her. Who or what stopped her, she did not know. But forever gone were the emotions she had bottled up inside of her. She never had felt so free. For a while writing had held her, but now she was free.

 

"Excuse me, ma'am," a voice interrupted her causing her to open her eyes. She was still standing on the cliff, no papers in her hands but a strange man next to her.

 

"Yes?" She almost thought she was still dreaming. This man looked just as she had pictured her hero.

 

"I recognized your face from your latest book."

 

"I've decided not to write again. I don't even think I could bring myself to sign your copy, I'm sorry."

 

"Oh, no, I just wanted to tell you I understand how you feel."

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"Your characters, they are what you want to be but can't."

 

"I'm going to try very hard now to be like them."

 

"I guess you'll need a 'strong man full of tenderness and protection'."

 

"You did read my books! Is that an offer?"

 

"I'm not sure I fit your bill, but I want to help you. I've been thinking about you ever since I read your last book."

 

"I started to write another, but my life got in the way and I couldn't keep the two straight."

 

"Well, I'm sorry that the world lost a great authoress, but I hope I have gained a friend."

 

"What are you doing out here?" she asked him.

 

"I don't know," he admited. "I felt moved to drive out here. I live just outside of town."

 

Reaching out to shake his extended hand, she answered him, "I'm glad you did, and I'd be proud to be your friend. My name is Faith."

 

"Perhaps we can extend that friendship over a cup of coffee. By the way, my name is John."

Author's Note

I know there are a few grammar problems, but if you see anything else wrong with the article, I'd love you to point it out. Please critique my work.

Reviews

[Warrior]

Great story telling. This did justice in the realm of getting the message across. Great message. There's lot of times where a story can have a great message to aim for, and have a lot of under lining things but then no one gets it, and if no one gets it, then the point has failed. But in my opinion this did well to get the message across. You made it clear, which is why I think it's good. Keep up the good work. What was also great was that I could imagine the story as I read it, and that is also a strong point of stories. The ability to have the reader imagine it because after all we're reading not watching it, but it was as if I was there as I read this, and that is great. Good job once again.