I have been reflecting on the idea of me being a writer. I have always wanted to be a published writer: a writer of fiction; a teller of stories; a wordsmith; a novelist. It is one of those dreams that I have filed away for someday – that ‘someday’ when there is more time, energy, money, opportunity, education, life experience, knowledge, real adventure and wisdom to draw from. You know, that ‘someday’ that most likely never comes. I watched Margaret Atwood being interviewed and she was asked what you had to do to be a writer. Her response, true to Margaret Atwood style, was, “If you want to be a writer, write.” Simple and complex.
I have read a lot about how to be a writer. There is a format, a plan, a pattern, a system to creating short stories, essays, poetry, articles, biographies, novels, and so on … There is a lot to know about how to be a writer, how to get published, how to self-publish, how to build an on-line following, how to run book-signing events, how to get ‘known’ in order to be successful. There is a lot of information available to distract you from the very simple directive, “If you want to be a writer, write.”
I do write. Daily, in fact. I journal every morning, and I often practice 20-minute timed writing sprints on random topics to wake up my mind. Yet, I see both of these writing endeavours as nothing more than the script of a rambling, disjointed, and sometimes chaotic train of thought. I write of the mundane, the boring, the “same stuff different day” things that I imagine no one really wants to read. I know I don’t want to. Well, no that’s not true because I do read it. I read back through my journals regularly. I compare same time this year to last year, and the year before, and a few years before that and you know what I’ve discovered? The outside, external representation of our selves shifts, but inwardly nothing really changes. I write of the same frustrations and the same dreams. I circle around through similar moods, emotions, ideas and reflections on where to go, how to get there, and what’s holding me back. Despite pages upon pages of writing and reflection, I manage to end up in almost the same place I have always been.
This fascinates me. Having spent many years in the study of Eastern philosophies, mindfulness practices, and meditation training, I have been indoctrinated into the belief that the only constant in life is change. I understand that all things change, and that every moment in time is different and unique to any other moment in time. I know that everything and everyone in the world around us are part of the cycle of life which includes birth, growth, existence, and death.
I feel we have the ability to choose how we show up in each moment. I like to believe that we can change our personae in a way that feels less confined to the dogma and constructs of the society we live in and be more authentic to our personal perception of a true self. I have read that the difference between today and tomorrow is a matter of choice. It is often suggested that if I choose to change my thoughts, and truly believe those thoughts, then everything else will realign relatively quickly to match those thoughts.
Reading back through my journals, I don’t see change happening in such a definitive and clear-cut way, at least not in my life. As mentioned, much of my writing is mundane, ordinary, and often repetitive. Yet, in and amongst all that sameness, there are new adventures and experiences. There are small, subtle changes in my physical body as it ages, in my habits, and even in my beliefs. There is an evolution of sorts that comes from steady, consistent practice of mindful awareness and conscious choice which creates a slight shift in the patterns, thoughts, and actions that move me slowly in the direction of my goals and dreams.
Less than fifteen years ago, I could not have imagined that I would have attained an Honours B.A. as a part-time mature student. I could not have imagined living in a century home in downtown Hamilton with a house full of pets and a partner who accepts and loves me for who and how I am. I could not have imagined singing in concert a few times a year with a renowned chorus, let alone being on stage at First Ontario Concert Hall and Burlington Performing Arts Centre.
Looking back through my journals, I realize I have often dreamt of such things. Not specific details, just joyful meanderings of my mind, more like fantasies rather than tangible realities. I did wish for many years that I had gone to university way back when. I did dream often of living in a big old house (although, I still picture it as having a wrap-around porch and being near water … so maybe that’s next – Lol!) And I have always loved to sing and wondered how it would feel to sing in public. I dreamed of these things in an imaginative, wishful, fantastical way. I don’t think I believed they would ever happen, but I had fun dreaming about them.
William Arthur Ward wrote, “If you can imagine it, you can achieve it. If you can dream it, you can become it.” My own life experiences seem to suggest that there is great truth in that maxim. In retrospect, I can see how I took small steps and little actions that eventually got me to some of those things I dreamt of. I went to open houses in Hamilton every Sunday for over a year and a half “for fun” and imagined how it would feel to live in the city. I joined a non-auditioned chorus “for fun” because I always wanted to sing. My theory was that I could hide in a large group of singers and nobody would notice that I didn’t read music or quite know what I was doing. For over a year, I rode my bike around the campus of McMaster, hung out in the university libraries, and read course calendars “for fun” imagining what it would be like to study in those beautiful, old buildings and hang out with academics. I didn’t plan a specific course of action or follow guided steps to make any of this happen. All I did was dream and imagine it. Eventually I began to believe it might be possible. It was in that belief of possibility that I did what I had to do to figure it out and make it work.
So maybe I am on my way to becoming a published writer of fiction. I have recently joined a local Writer’s Guild for no reason other than I get to hang out with some fabulous authors and practice writing just “for fun”.
What is it you dream of in those moments when you let your imagination run wild? Remember, “If you can imagine it, you can achieve it. If you can dream it, you can become it.” – William Arthur Ward.
Dream on my friends – Wendy xo
