You remember that scene in Sister Act Two when Whoopi is talking to young Lauryn Hill? She says,
“I went to my mother.who gave me this book called Letters To A Young Poet.Rainer Maria Rilke. He’s a fabulous writer. A fellowused to write to him and say,”I want to be a writer.Please read my stuff.” And Rilke saysto this guy, “Don’t ask me about being a writer. lf when you wake up in the morning you can think of nothing but writing then you’re a writer.” I’m gonna say the same thing to you. If you wake up in the mornin’ and you can’t think of anything but singin’ first, then you’re supposed to be a singer, Girl!”
It seemed all but too simple. I went to Deeds and I said, I am a writer. He just smiled. I guess the logical question would be why, then, am I not making a living out of writing? Well…I’m sure there will come a time when that comes. I write about the human experience, about my own experience. I write what I know, and I can’t possible cry every tear of hurt nor celebrate every victory, but through my work I get to experience (vicariously) so much more than I ever could in my one lifetime. Then I get to write it. I get to write my observations, my interpretations, paint the world with the colors of my truth. It makes me smile to have figured this out, to have come to this realization.
I often get the compliment “You should write a book.” One day I will. I hope to write many books. I will know when it’s right because I’ll feel it. *bites lip* This is right.
It was never a secret for Carrie or anyone who met her that she was a writer. It was the one thing that she always came back to and at any given time you could read her columns and know exactly where she was in her life. She was in those pages. It wasn’t a telling of a story, it was a snapshot of her at that time. Because she was a writer she was in the words. She defined herself in prose confining her present being to the metaphors and allusions within a minds grasp of the moment. That is what being a writer is. And no two pieces are the same because we are not the same. Ever changing, and that is in the words.