All great adventures need a beginning.
I’d written a couple drafts for this blog before I left work, and going back on them: Jesus Christ man, it’s like I was trying to write business cases or something.
Turns out, that’s what I’ve been doing for years. Lots of culturally sensitive, just-so pieces of writing. Business cases. Policy papers. All with beautifully coiffed language designed to not offend fellow G-men, or their bosses.
My beginning this week has been learning how to write again. Stories. It’s hard – I wrote a chapter for my book, and threw it in the trash. Re-wrote it, made it longer, gave the people character – now it almost sounds like something in a novel, rather than a memo written to justify another memo.
There’s stirring in the crypt; my inner child is getting closer to rising from the grave. If I know him at all – and let’s say that I do – he probably wants to say something using his own voice for a change.
It’s hard! Seriously. I’ve been trying to write using other people’s voices for as long as I can remember. It’s fun seeing this dead kid speak again.