Unlocking, Unblocking the Mind of the Writer

Writing 101, Unlocking the Mind

I’m doing the both of The Daily Post‘s comps, blogging 101 and writing 101. I think of this as the stretching warm-up for nanowrimo for me. I have a head full of words, all of them screaming to get out and fly on the wind.

Writing has been a passion of mine ever sense I was introduced to writing poetry in the third grade. I had a teacher who encouraged me, nurtured that aspect of myself when no one else had. You see, back then I was writing what my imagination brought forth. Which was rather unusual when I think of this, I had not been allowed to read fiction or chapter books beyond what was required in school. My mother’s firm beliefs that anything not real, not true extended into the realm of fiction. So I was committing a great sin in writing, not just writing but in writing the stories that swam in my head day in and day out.

Even at a young age I thought poetry may be the way to somehow walk both worlds, my mother’s and my own. Poetry isn’t exactly fiction, but the unique positioning of words to express an universal truth about emotions, life and humankind.

So this exercise isn’t just about Unlocking the Mind. It is Unblocking the Mind, unblocking the roadblock I’ve held before me for so long as almost impassable. I suffer from guilt in writing and it’s beyond time for me to take back that piece of personal power and grow up!

I love my mother and even thought she’s been gone from this world for many years, I have no trust that she would understand or even accept me for who I am. I know she would love me no matter what but I know I would be an outcast and a sinner in her eyes. I can only hope that if she had lived that life would have caused enough change in her to allow her to see me as I that I am and still worthy of her love, not just as her child but as a person as well.

It’s time for me to stop making excuses that derail my writing. Its time for me to push past the roadblock that her rejection of the part of me that I hold dear. It’s time for me to pursue my dreams with the passion and dedication I know I hold inside me.

I still have that first poem I wrote somewhere. My third grade teacher laminated the entire classes decorated work of word art. It was on green construction paper with a decorated cut out of lined paper with the words on it. I had decorated the background with bees and flowers. The title I still remember was “Amber Bee.” It was so childishly cute. And if I really think hard about it, I recall the hidden story in the poem. I had a major crush on a girl and this was my Ode to her. Not that I would ever tell her or even understand that part of myself until I was much older.

It’s funny that so much of the forbidden in my youth was tied to writing and reading. I still am a voracious reader. Heck I prefer a good book over television, unless it’s Dr. Who..or WWE or any of the educational PBS programs like NOVA or Into the Universe. I like to learn even if it is entertainment.

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About Isabella LeCour

She is nothing more than the collections of thoughts placed into the virtual worlds. She is a poet, a mother, a lover, many things to different people. But mostly, she is nothing but smoke and mirrors - some ethereal thing that blinks in an out of existence.
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