The Moment I Knew I Had to Write
Anytime I have a writer crisis of faith, I return to that moment at the stoplight.
On Craft…
The year is 2014 and I am at a stoplight on my way to Trenton. To my left is a standard high school. To my right, another row of cars. Traffic’s killer. I feel as if I’ve been at this light for ages. I’m scrolling through my music, looking for something to make time feel a little less heavy on my shoulders. The light cycles and I still haven’t been able to make it through and turn left to the highway. I land on Logic’s 2013 mixtape, Welcome to Forever, and as the first and titular song plays, I begin to cry.
This happens all the time. I cry at everything. It was true in 2014, and it’s true today. I have memories sitting in undergrad, my face suddenly ever-so wet, and having to leave the room because for some reason, I simply cannot control my emotions. But back to the matter at hand. “Welcome to Forever,” featuring Jon Bellion, produced by 6ix, plays and I feel a stir in my chest. I’ve heard this song countless times, and yet, this listen feels different. Feels like a moment of communion between myself and my dreams. When Logic says “This is real life, everything we do is legendary / And we gon’ do it to the day we in the cemetery / Real life, it feel like I’m dreaming / Used to feel like I was nothing, now my life has meaning,” I think of the importance of writing.
Writing saved my life. It continues to save me. Ever since I was capable, I’ve wanted to be a writer. As a child, before the pen, I would spin fantastic stories to my neighbors and teachers. I lived for their reactions, and I lived for the next sentence. In my mind, the ultimate goal was to put together a story from start to finish. I would make “books” in Microsoft PowerPoint. I would start numerous “novels” in Word. I was the girl with the big notebook, who would sit out gym class in favor of writing on the raggedy bleachers. Writing gave my life meaning as a kid, gives my life meaning now as an adult.
Sitting at that stoplight, I immediately placed why I was crying: I had to write. I was in the throes of another failed novel. I was wondering if writing was even worth it. Every free chance I got, I would pour myself a glass of white wine or hot tea and type away until I couldn’t see straight and the words looped into each other. But what was it all for? No one was publishing me. Literary journal rejections were aplenty. My work was weaker than weak, but my fire was unending. How to bridge the gap between the two? I had no idea.
But I had to write. I told myself over and over again. There was no other path for me. I listened to “Welcome to Forever” and cried my eyes out because I saw myself in Logic’s hustle and in his hunger. This is why I love rappers in general, because how they feel about making rhymes is how I feel about piecing sentences together. It’s rabid and it’ll never stop hounding us. I wanted nothing more than to have my own “Welcome to Forever” moment, to stand triumphantly and say I “made it,” whatever that means. I had to write. I couldn’t stop. Soon after that moment at the light, I got my first acceptance for a short story. It was the first acceptance of several to come. And, well, you’re here… So you know the rest of the history.
Whenever I have a writer crisis of faith, whenever I wonder what all I’m writing for, I think back to that moment in the car before Twitter, before DJBooth, before acceptances and pieces and media and press, and the rest, and I think back to my carnal hunger for the pen and the page. I cannot let myself down. You could argue I knew I had to write the moment I was born—my mom loved to tout me as a kid-genius—but that’s besides the point.
The real point is I know exactly when and where I was when I made a promise to myself to never let go of my dreams. Whenever I am wounded by our current climate, I return to that younger me, and I remember her until I am back at the page, keeping my promise. Remember the promises you made to yourself when you realized writing was the way to a fulfilled life. Do everything you can to keep those promises intact. They are the promises that feed.