I’ve lost my voice. That is, if one can lose what they possibly never truly had in the first place.
I’m not speaking literally, but literary. I can write; that’s not the issue. I’m just struggling right now trying to find my place in this world. The trouble with me is, I’m sometimes flighty. There, I admitted it. I didn’t call myself “Wayward Writer” on Twitter for nothing. In fact, “easily swayed or prompted by caprice; unpredictable,” often fits me perfectly when it comes to writing.
I flip flop back and forth on my writing style–my voice–trying a number of different things on for size. The only thing that remains constant is my desire to write, to be a writer.
At this moment, I have two fictional novels partially complete. And by partially, I mean I can’t seem to get the storyline on either quite to my liking. But, more than that, each is very different in style. The first is an example of women’s fiction, written in a more literary style (i.e. I use bigger words). The other, even less complete, is an easy-read, fantasy story, more humorous in nature (I hope).
I also have started writing down bits and pieces of my life which I hope to someday compile into a memoir. The trouble with this is, I can’t see the path it’s taking yet. Would it be a fun, lighthearted memoir? Or more like the inner-soul searching, find yourself type? This really is ironic, being that it’s my own life’s story! I would think, at least, I’d be able to figure that one out. But, alas, I am still wishy-washy even when it comes to this.
That’s why I’ve decided I suffer from the possibly rare but serious disease called Writer’s Laryngitis. (Okay, yes, I just made that up.) This is not to be mistaken for the all-too-common Writer’s Block, which symptoms include: staring aimlessly at a blank computer screen for hours at a time, overuse of alcohol, and eventual hair loss. Writer’s Laryngitis is often caused by the overuse of one’s writing voice or by the use of too many different voices all at once. These voices may also occur in one’s own head (often exacerbated by the aforementioned overuse of alcohol). More serious cases can often lead to Dissociative Identity Disorder, or split personality, so we’ve I’ve heard.
One thing’s for certain, I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to stick with just one genre or style of writing. I can’t write all humor all the time (not enough material). And, by the same token, I can’t be serious and broody all the time either (not enough wine). If this post itself isn’t evidence enough of my eclectic, wayward writing habits, I don’t know what is. It doesn’t take much to see that this piece started out as something more figurative and metaphoric in tone.
Then, somewhere, I took a left turn at Albuquerque. The question is, do I need a road map or just continue to follow my own erratic sense of direction?