For my creative writing class, we were asked to do a response to Joyce Carol Oates’ To A Young Writer (an excerpt from The Faith of a Writer) and this is what I wrote:
"Words are born in people's mouth and die in their ears. But some words don't die, they go into people's hearts and survive." I was watching a TV drama and I had to pause at the mention of these lines. They reminded me of that time when I was inside our classroom, reading the letter you wrote to a young writer. Presumably, it wasn't for me but still, I was reminded of it.
To be quite frank Ms Joyce, I found myself in contemplation upon reading your words last Saturday. I think your words were able to find their way into my heart and they're surviving. And now, I'm going to write my heart out to you as a sign of my gratitude for writing such a letter with words that seemed to have woken up the slumbering writer in me.
As a writer, I have always found myself in the dark in the past. I was a struggling, insecure and frustrated writer. I wasn't a novice, but without any substantial experience to even categorize myself as an "intermediate" more so an "advanced" level kind of writer. I was moody, and I could never work on a time-bounded piece. I also struggled with finding a theme, a subject or a story that I could write about.
And even if I did, even if I have found a theme for my writings, I have always been insecure about them. If I'm being honest, I was ashamed of it. Not because it was a subject that I despise, but because I was scared of how people would react to it. I was scared of the criticism, the prejudice and whatever feedback my writings would receive. I liked writing about sad things, Joyce. I liked writing about longing, separation and regret. I liked writing about sadness, and to describe it as if it was a tangible thing. Writing about that dark and empty room inside felt like home. But I was scared that I would be labelled as "depressed" and "problematic", and then I would have to deal with the anxiety of people looking at me as if I was in need of saving.
But you told a young writer to never be ashamed, to let her forbidden passions fuel her writer. It felt liberating to find such a statement. It felt good to have someone say that my "forbidden" passions are valid and that it was okay.
"You may be addressing, unconsciously, an audience that doesn't exist; you may be trying to please someone who won't be pleased, and who isn't worth pleasing." These lines were a ray of light, pulling me out a writer in the dark, Joyce. A writer who's scared of facing the audience.
Moreover, I also struggled to find a voice. My own voice. I have always wanted to have my own style of writing, one that would separate me from others but it wasn't easy. I didn't know what kind of voice I wanted to have. But as I grasped your words, I felt the courage to find it. I might not have my own voice now, but I'm on my way. Stepping out into the light, I feel like I am even more confident to begin the quest for finding Madi's voice even if it would take me to the deepest parts of the ocean.
Even though my words will never be enough to fathom the kind of gratitude and respect I felt towards you after reading your letter, I am hoping that this letter would be able to communicate my response to your words that still live inside my heart.
I hope you continue to reveal the truth and inspire writers to be themselves and to never be afraid.
From a retired writer in the dark
izzy806
tangentwithtanner
prguitarman
ellievsbear
snowghoul
