Journey to the Past...

So... I'm lame and don't have time to blog today. Instead, I decided to give you a blog post I wrote a LONG time ago... it's one of my favorites just because it's really, really, REALLY strange.


Everyone can write. It is not something that can be taught, not something that can be learned. It is simply there, like the ability to breath or the ability of a heart to pump. It just is. There is a place in the mind, a place where raw knowledge and ideas are born. Everyone has it. But not everyone can tap it. Why? Because of Rationality.

Rationality – a disease; the cause of death to imaginations and creative writing everywhere. The thing that gnaws at you as you read, watch movies, or even dream. The thing that tells you nothing like “that” could ever happen. It tells you about the meaning of “inanimant” and steps on ideas before they are big enough to defend themselves. It says God is not real. The thing that tells you the only thing that is real is a good job, and money. Money can buy you anything. Those who believe in Rationality were the same ones who grew up telling kids on the playground that Santa was real. They live boring lives, and their place is full of cobwebs. A truly sad sight. Those are the people who need to connect the dots. They can’t see the big picture, and they don’t try. They focus on the dots, the first, then the next, then the next. Everything has a purpose, and everything must connect.

And then there are those that are wise to Rationality. They have been keeping up with their Place, keeping it in working order, and still dreaming. The people who hear something interesting and file it, meaning to elaborate later. Ideas can be born here, but they have no room to grow. These are the people who want to see the big picture, but can’t. Connecting the dots is fun for them, and they try.

And then there are those who know. They know all of Rationality’s tricks and lies, and can deflect them. They believe God is real, and do with that knowledge what they please. They don’t have a Place, they have a World. These people not only know that Santa is not real, but also know that if you travel to the past, you had better not stay there long. The Langoliers are coming, and you don’t want to be there when they show up. These are the people that know dolls can come to life and if you step on a butterfly, you could very well have killed thousands of people. You can find these people in any fandom, because they devote themselves. They are drawn to things within their genres and they are devoted. They see and they theorize. They speculate, and they do so happily, excited. Because this is life for them, this is what they live for – having their minds function on levels beyond that of what Rationality tells them exists. These people still know how to dream, and they know. There are answers in that world, and sub consciously, we know that. That’s why we’ve made it. And the answers grow. They are born, and they grow, and float around until you see them, and you grab them and express them, and they are gone, leaving room for more ideas, more answers to be born and grow until they too are expressed. These are the people that don’t need dots. They see the big picture – it’s as if the dots never existed. The picture is what we make it, what we see.

Our eyes are almost magical – we can see, and we can grasp. But we need to know, first. We need to hear, and know. We look to those who have already learned for help, and thus, we read. None of that non-fiction crap, no, that’s not writing, that’s relaying. We look to those who write, who have visited their world and made friends with the ideas that speak to them the most. If you are wise and know what you are doing, you’ll turn to those who have made friends with Fantasy and Horror. These are the people that understand the most, because Horror and Fantasy are the ones that know the mind – the mind that is no longer bound by rules and laws. The speak to the mind in it’s most raw form – and to be friends with them is to know.

So we turn to them –the writers who have visited the World. We read, and we know how to visit the World ourselves. There are no dots to us, but we are connecting them without knowing. That is why we can see the big picture – the picture we made – because we read and we connect, and we get closer to visiting our World. And it’s not really ours, it’s everyone’s. We are merely able to create our own door, because we don’t believe in Santa, but we believe in the monsters under our bed, and the spirits in the tween hours. We believe in the inner workings of the mind, and we open the door.

We follow suite – we go to school and we get our education, but we also steal away to the world. We have ideas, we grasp them, let them go, merge them with others, and create a new idea. We let it grow, and merge it again, until we have a creation. And then we express it.

You can’t learn to write, you can only know.

And the first thing to know is this – there are no writers. There are no authors, no playwrites, no poets. There are merely The Knowing. Those of us that have found our door, opened it, and visited. Those of us who have made friends. We know – because our friends have told us. We are transmitters – we tell you what our friends say. Fantasy wants to relay this, Horror that, Comedy everything else. Most everything is connected, but this is because we don’t need it to be. We see a dot, and we think of another dot. And we create. But every once and while, we find an idea, we nurture it, and it becomes ours. We relay it, we rewrite and we rewrite, and finally, we know. And the idea gets out there somehow, because we know it, and it is ours.

I have found my door, and have gone through it. I have visited the World, and I have made friends with Romance and Fantasy. I have done that which I had not been sure I was worthy of, making friends with Fantasy, but I have grown due to recent events, and Fantasy made friends with me. She has been kind, and need only be kind in return. She showed me where to look, and now I have found my idea, and I am nurturing it. I have visited ideas, but known they were not mine – have tried to make them mine, to develop them, and haven’t been able to. I’ve watched as the ideas find their owners, and bloom faster than I could ever imagine, and I have accepted. But now I have found my idea, and I know it is mine. I am nurturing it now, merging and letting it grow. And it will explode, soon, and waiting is amazing. But until then, I will turn to them – my mentors, my seniors. I will talk with those who are friends with Horror and Fantasy, and I will know.

  • Digg
  • StumbleUpon
  • Reddit
  • RSS