Sometimes People Just Want You to Stop
This topic came up again lately, with regard to award nomination season, and I posted a link to this essay:
Sometimes People Just Want You to Stop
https://marthawells.dreamwidth.org/375043.html
It's not so much about trying to make time for writing, but about the people in your life who try to stop you from writing, and why. Not that I have any real answers to those questions but I think it helps to know it's incredibly common. And of course it's much worse for writers who are people of color, or LGBTQIA, who have disabilities, etc.
(I should probably write a sequel about people who really don't want you to be nominated for awards.)
comments
Sometimes People Just Want You to Stop
https://marthawells.dreamwidth.org/375043.html
It's not so much about trying to make time for writing, but about the people in your life who try to stop you from writing, and why. Not that I have any real answers to those questions but I think it helps to know it's incredibly common. And of course it's much worse for writers who are people of color, or LGBTQIA, who have disabilities, etc.
(I should probably write a sequel about people who really don't want you to be nominated for awards.)
comments
date
newest »
newest »
So. Grown folks told me if I wanted to be a writer I should stop with the stories already and become a journalist. Help the black community. Expose injustice. Become famous. Sounds great. Except. I was a just a nerdy black girl trying to cope in the Deep South and I did that by writing myself into another time and place. ( I also wanted to take a class to learn car repair but I was told "no" by my guidance counselor. She said my fingernails would always be dirty with machine oil and nobody would ever want to marry me. Sooo.)
I went to college, majored in journalism and did my first internship with my hometown paper. I was the first black person to do walk into that newsroom. Let me tell you being the first isn't an honor. It's a battle. I spent the whole summer so stressed and angry that I convinced myself I didn't have what it took to be a real writer. Sure I was good, but I really only wanted a computer and a quiet room with a view. A revolutionary I was not. So I stopped. Yep. Finished my internship. Changed my major and got on with my life.
I have no regrets because regrets are dumb. What I have now is the wisdom that comes with leaving home and experiencing the world on my own terms. Being middle age helps too. It's waaay awesomer than being a teen.
Thank you for being kick ass and putting people of all colors (sometimes dark ones with braids!) in your books. The south hasn't changed all that much and voices like yours help keep a young black girl sane. She might even figure out an exit strategy of her own. ;)