"And I'm so quick to lose
What was never mine to keep
And I cannot stand on
What's broken under me
And I don't know how
To forgive myself for everything
But I must learn trust."
-Trust, Christina Perri
My writing style comes from my experience as a drama geek. I really took to the idea of method acting, specifically Meisner's technique, which you put yourself into the head of your character, developing and creating a backstory so that you can react honestly in the scene. Even though my drama teacher was a terrible human being, I have actually found myself using that technique when I write. When I sit down at my keyboard - especially for the more emotional scenes - sometimes I actually act it out, crying and screaming as they would, and letting the emotions and words bubble up as if it were happening to me. Then it's, "SCENE. Oh man, that was some good stuff. Write that shit down."
But sometimes, we switch places - they become my vehicle for parsing through my own emotions.
It astonishes me sometimes, especially as I'm writing scenes with Lyssa, that I come to a spot where I have no idea why she acts the way she does. Then I realize that she's acting that way because I would act that way. And then we talk it out write it out and realize where that reaction is coming from. And then you see it in the book. And I've usually cried a bit when I was writing it because I've discovered some truth about myself that hits me like a ton of bricks.
Book 2 is a good example. I won't go into specifics, but the gist of the situation is that Lyssa finds out that she's peripherally responsible for a really terrible thing. Immediately, she reverts back to her old habits that she sort-of worked through in Book 1 - thinking that it would have been better if she'd never been born.
Vel is there, and he tries to bring her back around to sanity, and he lays this truthbomb on her, which came out of the blue when I was writing:
I've lived in DC for almost 10 years, and in that time, I don't feel like I have made a single friend. I've made a boatload of acquaintances, sure, but no one I consider a friend, or even a best friend. I thought it was because it's hard to make adult friends, or it's because I grew out of our friendship, or whatever, but - to be perfectly honest - I haven't made any new friends because I don't trust people. And it's easier for me to just pack it in and head back to Pensacola where I've got a BFF and family that I do trust than for me to try and let people in.
I guess it's still those middle school scars rearing their ugly head. I feel like everyone hates me still, that I'm obnoxious and I talk too much. I'm too stupid for the smart kids, too smart for the stupid kids, too serious for the art kids, too creative for the serious kids. Too slow for the jocks, too fast for the lazy people. There's only one person with whom I've ever felt like I was "home" - and just like Razia, that person is gone.
Y'all saw, it's a good thing he's gone. But it's not a good thing that he's the only one I ever really really trusted. Because now I'm lonely and miserable without anyone to talk to about everything in my head. Because I don't trust anyone else will care about me and my troubles the way he did. Because if I call anyone up and tell them I'm having a bad day, I can't trust that they'll give a flip about it.
Like I said, this is my baggage to deal with, and I'm so thankful for my fictional therapist for stepping in to help me decipher my crazy. I have been a lot more open - actually letting people I know and *gasp* work with have access to my book and blog. And I'm not going to hide from the fact that a big chunk of the reason why I'm moving home is to return to the people I know have my back.
But if I'm ever going to really let anyone new in - if I'm ever going to create new meaningful relationships with people - I have to learn to let go and trust that not everyone has the same opinion of myself that I do.
And remind myself that opinion isn't entirely accurate, too.
What was never mine to keep
And I cannot stand on
What's broken under me
And I don't know how
To forgive myself for everything
But I must learn trust."
-Trust, Christina Perri
My writing style comes from my experience as a drama geek. I really took to the idea of method acting, specifically Meisner's technique, which you put yourself into the head of your character, developing and creating a backstory so that you can react honestly in the scene. Even though my drama teacher was a terrible human being, I have actually found myself using that technique when I write. When I sit down at my keyboard - especially for the more emotional scenes - sometimes I actually act it out, crying and screaming as they would, and letting the emotions and words bubble up as if it were happening to me. Then it's, "SCENE. Oh man, that was some good stuff. Write that shit down."
But sometimes, we switch places - they become my vehicle for parsing through my own emotions.
It astonishes me sometimes, especially as I'm writing scenes with Lyssa, that I come to a spot where I have no idea why she acts the way she does. Then I realize that she's acting that way because I would act that way. And then we talk it out write it out and realize where that reaction is coming from. And then you see it in the book. And I've usually cried a bit when I was writing it because I've discovered some truth about myself that hits me like a ton of bricks.
Book 2 is a good example. I won't go into specifics, but the gist of the situation is that Lyssa finds out that she's peripherally responsible for a really terrible thing. Immediately, she reverts back to her old habits that she sort-of worked through in Book 1 - thinking that it would have been better if she'd never been born.
Vel is there, and he tries to bring her back around to sanity, and he lays this truthbomb on her, which came out of the blue when I was writing:
"Then why did He take away the only thing in this entire universe that ever made me happy?" Lyssa barked, snapping her head up. "Why me? Why does everyone else get to be happy and...and I don't."
"Because you don't let yourself be happy," Vel replied, an edge in his voice. "You obviously cared a lot about him - you trusted him. And you haven't trusted another person since - me included!"
[...]
I've been guilty of pushing people away lately. I told myself it's because I'm being selfish, that I'm exploring my own wants and desires. I have Suni (or Whit, depending on who's in charge) and I don't actually need anyone else. But that's a big fat lie. Just like Lyssa, I can't go through life as an island, or with half-assed relationships (romantic and otherwise) with people. And that's been a large part of my unhappiness over the past couple of weeks. "Well, you can't go through life pushing people away and expect to find the same kind of safe haven you found in Tauron," Vel said. "To get that kind of connection again, you're going to have to trust that maybe not everyone is the enemy. That maybe you'll lose someone again, but that's no excuse to shut everyone out completely. Just because you've lost someone, that's no excuse to not trust people who obviously care about you."
I've lived in DC for almost 10 years, and in that time, I don't feel like I have made a single friend. I've made a boatload of acquaintances, sure, but no one I consider a friend, or even a best friend. I thought it was because it's hard to make adult friends, or it's because I grew out of our friendship, or whatever, but - to be perfectly honest - I haven't made any new friends because I don't trust people. And it's easier for me to just pack it in and head back to Pensacola where I've got a BFF and family that I do trust than for me to try and let people in.
I guess it's still those middle school scars rearing their ugly head. I feel like everyone hates me still, that I'm obnoxious and I talk too much. I'm too stupid for the smart kids, too smart for the stupid kids, too serious for the art kids, too creative for the serious kids. Too slow for the jocks, too fast for the lazy people. There's only one person with whom I've ever felt like I was "home" - and just like Razia, that person is gone.
Y'all saw, it's a good thing he's gone. But it's not a good thing that he's the only one I ever really really trusted. Because now I'm lonely and miserable without anyone to talk to about everything in my head. Because I don't trust anyone else will care about me and my troubles the way he did. Because if I call anyone up and tell them I'm having a bad day, I can't trust that they'll give a flip about it.
Like I said, this is my baggage to deal with, and I'm so thankful for my fictional therapist for stepping in to help me decipher my crazy. I have been a lot more open - actually letting people I know and *gasp* work with have access to my book and blog. And I'm not going to hide from the fact that a big chunk of the reason why I'm moving home is to return to the people I know have my back.
But if I'm ever going to really let anyone new in - if I'm ever going to create new meaningful relationships with people - I have to learn to let go and trust that not everyone has the same opinion of myself that I do.
And remind myself that opinion isn't entirely accurate, too.
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