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My son has never been a man of words. He’s four now and after a notable delay with his speech, a few speech therapists and many notable arguments about the matter, he’s finally coming into his own. Now, he’s a non-stop talker…his speech patterns are much more grown up, and we have gotten past the point where I’m constantly translating his language for others.

See, I’ve always understood my son. The first thing that you need to understand is that he’s highly intelligent. I know all mothers probably say this about their kids but when it comes to Rymi, it’s true. I watch him, everyday, and this is what he does. He sits back and watches the world, allowing his brain to focus on what it is that he wants to learn and he picks things up incredibly fast.

He has picked up numbers and letters with minimal exposure. He has superior reasoning skills and puts ideas together at a level which I have never seen in a child his age. He does have a fantastical imagination but he understands the bounds of reality, too and when I suggest an idea which is outlandish, he’s quick to let me know that it just wont work!

Once he makes up his mind on something, he’s dedicated to it and he will see it through. While most 4  year olds want to be a prince or dragon slayer…policeman or fireman, my son wants to be a makeup artist (for special effects). He calls it monster makeup and for nearly a year, he has been unwavering in his answer to the question “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

Yes, he’s an amazing child and since his speech has flourished, he’s settled into a pattern of picking up a certain phrase and carrying it around for a while. For about a month, it was “I don’t think so”. That was his answer for everything…

ME: “Rymi, are you ready to go to the store.”

RYMI: “I don’t think so”

Me: “Rymi, do you want ketchup”

RYMI: “I don’t think so.” (He HATES ketchup)

ME: “Rymi, do you want to fly to the moon”

RYMI: *giggles* “I don’t think so”.

It’s adoring to hear him speak in this manner.  Right now, his favorite phrase is, “That’s strange”. He just came up to me and upon discovering my cartilage piercing (which I almost never wear these days), he says “That’s strange…Mommy, do you have a hole in your ear?”  I could see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to reconcile this in his brain. That’s my boy, always looking for reason.

Just for the record, he has been tested for autism and no, he’s not. Even if he was, I would never put that limitation on him. I love the way he see’s the world…the way he connects with it. He has a beautifully rational yet creative brain and one day, it will serve him well. Right now, he’ll have to settle for being misunderstood by the majority and loved by his momma.

I’m not sure what this has to do with anything but I’m still battling with the beast (writer’s block) and so I’m trying to bat away at the cobwebs a bit…you know, get the juices flowing.

Somedays, My Own Brain Fails Me…#WritersBlock

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writersblockI woke up this morning, with a story on the edge of my brain. Well, actually, it was the end to a story…A story that I’ve been working on too long. Last night, as it often happens, all the details worked itself out in my brain and I awoke this morning, ready to hash out the remainder of the story.

Great, right? Not so much.

I didn’t get to the computer fast enough. I milled around, took care of some things for my kids, talked to my mom, and brushed my teeth. By the time I made my way to my computer, the information had become a thin veil in my brain. I’ve tried, all day, to recall it…nothing has worked.

I’ve tried to write something else…I’ve tried to focus and meditate on it…I’ve tried scribbling circles on a blank piece of paper, hoping that it would come out…What did I get out of this? A whole heap of nothingness.

The forgotten information weighs on me. A ball of anxiety sits heavy on my chest and a fog descends over my brain. I can’t move forward and the constant distraction of my life compounds the feeling of being stuck.

It’s days like this that I curse my brain for its ever moving nature. If I could only learn to focus through distraction…I would be a better writer. If I could only find a quiet space…my thoughts could have free roam.  If I wasn’t so ADD…I wouldn’t sucuum to writer’s block.

I used to keep a notebook beside my bed. Perhaps I’ll have to start doing that again. But then again, who knows what would happen to it in the middle of the night. I’m sure it would become a place for my son’s drawings, instead of my waking thoughts.

Okay, my head hurts now. I’m going to go find something else to do…staring at this computer screen is driving me crazy. Maybe when I return, I will do so with a recovered memory. Hey, I”ve written this…that’s something, right?

 

ADD and the Writing Process…#HappyNewYear

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Sometimes I wish my mind was a steady stream, rather than a blazing fire…

…yet I burst into flames, because I like the burn.

Sometimes I wish I could wrangle my thoughts and quiet my mind…

…but I feel at home within the chaos and clutter.

Sometimes I wish that I could see things lightly; feel things lightly…

…instead, I write to lighten the load. 

I am a seer, 

I am a feeler, 

I am a visionary and

I am a dreamer. 

I am a writer; 

And a damn good one at that. 

Words ease the pain and isolation, 

Of my frantic brain. 

My attempt at poetry. I used to fashion myself a poet but it was a ruse. I put it on and wore it around for a while, like a petticoat that didn’t quite fit. I’m not a poet…the verses are too short and my writing tends to be lengthy. My thoughts are too disconnected; too scrambled for the subtle flow of poetry. No, I’m not a poet at all; I’m an empath.

Sometimes, I still write poetry but most of it is not good. I do it because the emotions rise within me and clog my brain. I do it because poetry is power and writing is better than exploding. Actually, a lot of my work spawns from half-written poems. I find it helps to expel the emotion before writing. Then, the logical parts of my brain can take over and I can communicate in clarity.

This particular poem has come about because I’ve been frustrated lately. This is how it happened: I published a book. The release of that book was exciting. Excitement for me, always leads to anxiety and anxiety leads to frustration. Sounds crazy, right? Well, that’s just me. My emotions are a strong and pointed cascade which have ruled me for most of my life…so I have to learn to control them.

My mind is strong but scattered. I am an extremely adept learner and inherently curious. Knowledge is a drug for me and I yearn for it, when things around me become quiet. However, thoughts do not flow through my mind in an endless stream. The world comes at me in flashes; random and incomplete flashes. Writing, for me, is more like quilting.

I think this is why “The Writing Process” does not work for me. By the time I set down to put something on paper, it is usually already written in my head but it is scattered and stored along with little pieces of emotion. My job, as a writer, becomes retrieving each piece and sewing them together; so that they flow logically.

Sometimes, my writing doesn’t flow…sometimes it’s not logical…that’s just one of the prices I pay for having a mind like this. It is a great mind but it’s wild. I’m sure if I wasn’t so good at dodging teachers, principals and counselors, they would have diagnosed me with ADD…but my mom wouldn’t let them.

She’s too smart. She understands that brains don’t come in a “one size fits” all format and she has always seen the beauty of my mind. I’m glad for this everyday because it never gave them the chance to break me….

I hate when I do this…when I use terms like “them”. I hate feeling like “the system” is against me; like it wants me to conform and curses me when I don’t. It’s not the system’s fault…I think that it tries hard to “fix” people like me but medication and heavy scolding only leave the creative mind broken and tattered.

I see the fire within my children. I’m just waiting for the day; after the phone calls home for their “behavior” pile up and the teachers have deemed them ‘uncontrolable’ that the school system will try to tell me that there is something wrong with them. They will try to convince me that their outbursts in class are disruptive and that their thoughts are too big. They will try to get me to make them conform…but I wont.

Because they are beautiful. They are strange and wild and full of life. For a long time, they will probably not ‘fit in’ but then they will realize that fitting in is overrated and then their souls will soar. At least I can teach them; help them direct their minds and control their emotions. I can help them flourish but I will never tell them that there is something wrong with them. I will never tell them that the way their brain works is “wrong”…

…There, I go, I’ve trailed off again…

The purpose for me writing this was to talk about the ADD mind and the writing process. Because it is both a New Year and a New Moon, it is to lay aside my anxieties about marketing and sales and focus my mind on writing. It is to dig beneath the clutter and find the strand which will unravel my newest novel.

It is also to say that writing, in all forms, is as unique as the mind. We don’t all think the same way and so we don’t all write the same way. The differences between us are not meant to set us apart but to bind us together as a whole; to make us stronger. This is true for the writing community and this is true for society, as well.