April 18th, 2008

cocked and loaded

PUBLIC APOLOGY

I was kind of yanking my brother's chain when I wrote yesterday's post, and obviously, since he's one of the few that hears the tone of my voice in his head when he reads my words, simply BECAUSE he knows me (too) well, I figured he would get that.

See, it wasn't really him (he?) that sparked the post I wrote, but it was he (him?) that sent me the link to the essay that DID spark it, so he got sort of associated sideways and took the brunt of the blame, quite unfairly.

Robin Hobb thinks what I do here isn't Writing. She thinks that what ALL of us who blog and journal online do isn't Writing. And to be fair, she has a valid point in many, many cases. And she obviously has her tongue firmly inserted in her cheek, as well. She's a fantasy author, for those of you who don't know: a damn good one and a damn good Writer as well.

Whether or not I am a Writer (or you) may be open to debate but the fact remains that I am a writer. I write, therefore, etc. I may not write novels or novellas or trilogies that sell a bazillion copies and get translated into several languages, but by God, I do write. Once in awhile I even birth a halfway decent poem, so I can, with confidence, claim I am a poet, though I am not in the league, by far, of the Real Poets, and I'd certainly never dare to try and make a living with it.

One thing that I think makes a writer is the ability to play with language, to hear voices in your head and transfer them to the page (or screen) in such a way that others hear them, too. And if you can do that with characters, super, but if you can do it with yourself and your life, then that is equally valid.

Sometimes I think it's a shame that I DON'T have the capability to create worlds in my head, and storylines and characters that would make someone buy all my books and read them over and over, like so many of the authors I devour and adore. But it doesn't really matter, because I know my writing talent, such as it is, lies in other places. I believe, like Robin Hobb, and like my brother, that the only way to be a writer is to WRITE. It's a nice bonus to know that I have such fans.

Sorry, John, if my mental voice didn't translate very well, and also that I made you out to be the bad guy, quite without malice aforethought. You're very much the opposite and one of my most dedicated champions.

Now, back to your regularly scheduled blogging!