Picking Up the Petals

I received this painting as a 23rd birthday gift from my little brother.

It's an image that's means much more to me than most hanging in my room. When he told me the inspiration had been my writing and what it represented it changed my entire perception of the picture. Now when I look at it I don't only see it but feel it.

Faces and names slowly began to form on these empty shells. They are all the characters of a story... And that story would be my own.

I knew exactly who each was and the experiences my imagination had painted for them to have. The limbs of their bodies take root at my wrist and stretch their hands into my own. This is the only way their stories can blossom onto pages and become real. It is my job to mold them into existence and I haven't been giving them a fair shot.

There is one thing that every creative writing class I have taken has repeated and that is to write what you know. It's natural to question yourself when you first here this. What do I know?

And I truly believe too many people underestimate how much they actually know and how many stories they really have inside of them.

I find it strange when people claim what they have to say would be uninteresting because they have had an uneventful or privileged life. The way I see it is we are all human. I don't mean that in any Kumbaya-sit-around-the-campfire sort of way. I'm just saying that if you breakdown all our different circumstances there is only one thing that remains: Passion.

We feel passion in so many different ways than realized. It is mostly associated with love and determination but i think it is the root of all emotion. If someone has lost someone important in their lives, becomes ill, loses their job, gets their heartbroken, etc. Their circumstances are still attached by raw emotions. Love. Hate. Jealousy. Determination. Fear.. and so on.

When it comes to writing, all of us can tell a story others can relate to because everyone is capable of feeling. So whether you write a story about losing your mother or your goldfish if you can make us feel the pain you faced then we can believe in the character, the story and you.

Now I just need to take a little of my own advice and believe that I do have a story to tell.  I need to believe, with every ounce of my being, that I can make a difference.  Because if I don't, then who will?  No one is capable of telling it the way I can.  

So, what in hell am I waiting for?