Existing and Writing 1

One's voice is a delicate and bulky thing at the same time. The tender nuances can carry waves of power both exquisite and crushing.

A friend once commented that my writing voice "is fucking sublime" (a true compliment, considering the source). Like a family of complex personalities, that voice is but one child in the din of the gathering, each voice vying for attention, acknowledgement, love. From where and how do true voices come?

Restlessness and pain create the most naturally pure and divine voices, like intricate webs shimmering in the light breeze and dew of sunrise. You hold your breath while admiring them in that exact point in time when you stop contemplating who you are and why you exist and simply blend into the creation of something unique.

Perspective is critical when you require clarity in meaning. Though it can seem random to the casual reader, I often move between first and second person narrative to keep the reader engaged. It seems to layer the scene I've laid out to give it a real dimension that gives the reader the sense that he is somehow involved and not simply a passive voyeur. But I digress.

Back to the fuel that runs the voice. Pain, restlessness, the naked eye pure view, lensless and stark. It takes years and layers of increased internal suffering and acknowledgement to strip away the influence of media and similar outlets/stimulants. People may tell themselves it's a dark place in which to live, but that's the easy way out - glazing over the reality because it's the path of least resistance. On the polar contrary, a critical view with clarity doesn't need to be some dark reverse-solipsistic distopic swamp where you feel only despair and fear. In the right hands, it's liberating. All life cannot be a filtered instagram image.

Part 2