Thursday, December 16, 2004

A Manifesto of Sorts

Someone commented yesterday that "it must be exhausting" to think up all of the things I write about here on OWM. And my answer to that darling doll (who, btw, is simply gorgeous and shouldn’t be worrying over “sucking it in”) would be: No. Absolutely not. I find writing whatever pops into my tiny and slightly pointed head extremely easy. Hence my chosen career as a writer. I am embarrassingly incompetent with most everything else in life (except motherhood -- I am Earth Mother extraordinaire, if I do say so myself. Well, except on the days I feel like taking two meat skewers and plunging them straight into both eyes, making sure to twist real good, but only after I first take a turkey baster and suck out my eardrums until I am sufficiently blind and deaf). Words are a limitless wonder for me.

What is exhausting, however, is working the writing around my other obligations. I need solitude in order to write, especially fiction or poetry, and in my house, solitude is about as common as two-headed hyenas giving birth on my living room floor. But I grab what little there is, regardless of the unfortunate guilt many mothers feel when they do something just for themselves; I write through the angry demands, the occasional disapproval of my husband, the time stolen that might best be given to my kids, but is not. Because I am selfishly in love with words. And sometimes I feel so much guilt over that fact, it clouds my imagination even when I am given solitude.

That is what exhausts me and makes me want to say fuckitall.

I won't, though, because I can't. I must write, and I must be read, whether by scores of folks who happen to buy the books and magazines I'm published in, or only by the few who might enjoy my insane ramblings here. Which leads me to this: I am someone who finds it very difficult to comfortably converse with others face to face -- I can't bear chatrooms, even -- so writing is my way of connecting to the outside world. It keeps me from being a (less violent) Ted Kaczynski.

I'm known as the weird horror writer lady in my neighborhood due to my hermit-like existence. I realize that I'm seen as aloof, unfriendly, scary, and it bothers me to some degree. even though I should be used to the "weird" label by now. I was the weird little girl in grammar school, the weird hot chick in high school, and now the weird horror writer lady who never comes over for coffee or attends neighborhood doings. But don't feel sorry for me, because I wouldn't have it any other way -- I like being left alone, and I like having my husband, kids and a couple of close friends as my only company. I love my cyber friends. That way, I don't have to put on a mask, pretend that it's not hard to look others in the eye, to make small talk. I don't have to smile and laugh when I seriously don't want to; I don't have to conform to what's considered "appropriate" behavior. That, too, is what exhausts me, that pretense, that stress of trying to fit in.

I'll be damned if I put on a mask here, in my own space.

I decided long ago that since I will be me forever, I should accept who I am without apology, without shame. I like me, and I couldn't care less about those who don't. They can all hitch a ride on the flying monkey's ass, as far as I'm concerned.


At 5:31 PM, Blogger ms ralph said...

I was so thankful to Michelle that I found your blog because it is such a joy to read. And now today you mention moi! What joy. I am as one would say a wannabe writer who has yet to plunge into the world of publishing, and I enjoy reading those who write well. This could be why I like you so much.

At 9:24 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Cool, I'm pretty new here so I didn't know you were a published writer, only that I love your writting style.

Can you tell me what name you're published under and some titles of your books. I would love to check them out. I love to read horror books, especially from weirdo's {{wink}}.


At 10:19 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Yeay for literary proliferation and mutually assured conjugation. ;)


At 10:34 AM, Blogger Diana said...

"weird horror writer lady" reminded me of this little bio I just posted on my blog about Shirley Jackson. I related to it more than I care to admit:

Nice blog you have here!

At 11:58 AM, Blogger Ms. Lori said...

K.B. (I used to have a cat named K.B. -- short for Ms. Karen Black), I write as L. Lynn Young. My website in in my profile, but here’s a link:

Currently, you can find my story “Annabell” in “From the Borderlands“ (Warner Books paperback), available everywhere. Stephen King has a new novella in there, if you’re into him, as well as many other excellent writers such as Whitley Strieber, John Farris, and Gary Braunbeck, to name a few. Also, I’ve a couple of things due out in the coming months -- a poem, “Autumn, Like Anais Nin,” which will appear in an anthology of autumnal-themed poetry titled “There is Something in the Autumn“ and a short story titled “Two-Faced Woman” which will appear in Brutarian Quarterly, a nationally distributed magazine that features cutting edge, weird, beautiful and disturbing art, interviews and fiction. More to come, which I’ll post here on OWM as details are finalized. Thanks for your interest!

Peter, you can conjugate me anytime. ;-)

Diana, will definitely check that out -- Ms. Jackson is one of my favorites. And she graduated from my old stomping grounds -- Brighton High School in Rochester, N.Y. My daughter now attends, as will my other three children when the time comes.

At 12:08 PM, Blogger Ms. Lori said...

ARGH! I KNOW I closed the damn tags! Sorry for the HUMONGOUS link, folks!

Yup, just looked at my wordpad -- I did close the tags.

Blogger sucks like Paris Hilton, doesn't it?

At 1:38 PM, Blogger Mamacita said...

Every time I come here I love it more. You're awesome!


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