Unleaded – Fuel for Writers

Yes. I said it. Who cares? If you are like me, you often review some piece of writerly drivel, a bad book, a stupid facebook update, or any number of comments on a political blog, and you think to yourself, “Snicker236, why do you even talk? No one cares about your opinion anyway.” Then, you go about your day, happy as any clam until you start to think, “Wait a second, someone probably thinks that about me.”

Then, if you are still anything like me, you spiral. Down. Very, very, fast. Let’s face it, if there is no point in commenting because no one cares about my opinion, then who is going to care if I finish that book about old ladies? Who is going to care if I publish anything? Ever? It’s not like I’m working on the next school must read or great social commentary. So, even if I do finish it, who cares?

Well, I struggled with this question all last night trying to think of my weekly blog post, and here’s your answer. Drumroll please.

Who cares who cares? If you are writing to change someone else’s life, then you are writing for a moving target. You have to write for yourself (yes, if you want to make any money, you will eventually have to find an audience and publisher, etc, but roll with me for a moment.) You have to write for yourself because only then can you lend your writing voice to the worldly chorus. We need the noise of the masses clamoring out their thoughts and ideas in the clickety-clicks of keyboard strokes. We need contradicting opinions, bad novels, and stories that cross so many genres we should just create another genre. We need this cacophony because if it wasn’t there, we would drown in the silence. Our ideas and stories are meant to be heard, maybe not by the masses you dream of, but someone, somewhere cares.

I care.

My brother and his wife are visiting me in DC this week. They are from Colorado and have never been out here before, so I’m doing my sisterly duty and visiting all of the monuments and battlegrounds and other things I never see unless guests are in town. Normally during these excursions, I’m too sidetracked to pay much attention to what’s going on or being said around me. This time, however, I decided to do a bit of a social experiment. I started watching people, listening to the brief snippets or their conversations, and imagining their life story.

At the Air and Space museum I saw the boy scout with his his khaki brown top tucked into his blue plaid shorts betting with his friends about who could eat more French fries after chugging a cherry coke. There was the homeless man on the National Mall who threatened to punch his invisible friend in the head. And my favorite of all, the little kids at one of the battlegrounds who wondered why they couldn’t see any bodies.

In the last week, I have imagined some of the richest characters in my life. I can see what they wear, what type of food they eat, and why they keep their chapstick in their left pocket but their money in their right. This exercise has helped me think more about my characters as people, rather than modes of story development. It’s the little unique ticks about a person that makes them real.

I challenge all of you to watch the people around you. Notice the words they overuse. Their hairstyle. Their religion. Now, do this to your characters, and I think you’ll find that they become real as well.