Chasing Our Tales

"Writing is a triumph of tenacity over common sense."

That's what my mother says anyway. Her view is that any kind of writing is a "...very strange way of spending your time, Robert. Why on earth would anyone want to waste their energy doing that?"

And this from a woman who reads like it's about to get banned. I've pointed this out of course. But though she loves reading, she thinks all writers must be a little weird to devote their lives to sitting alone and writing.

She's a more sociable animal you see. Her idea of bliss is to be surrounded by any kind of people, all chattering and yammering over nothing in particular, simply enjoying the closeness of others.

That, of course, is my idea of The Seventh Level of Hell.

Not that I intend to be unsociable - or mean for that matter. I just prefer books and writing and creating, working on artistic projects - and if I do need to go out and communicate, I want it to be for a good reason - like to teach, or learn, or brainstorm or dream and plan with others about a brighter, more positive, art focussed future.

I find stagnation - by which I mean merely existing in ordinary life - a very poor substitute for the joy of creating.

The Wind Beneath My Wings

Creativity is what inspires me.

Working on stories about people and plots I have 'invented' is what keeps me excited about life. Writing songs and recording music gets me too. As does oil painting...

If it's not fiction, I can become equally engrossed in putting together books and courses. I've always been this way. I wrote my first book - about chocolate and secret places to keep it - when I was four years old. I wrote it out by hand and bound it all with Sellotape - and hid it in the wall of my bedroom.

I kept diaries until I was eighteen - until I went travelling across Europe and returned home to find my mother - not that I want to sound like Norman Bates here - had thrown them all out. When I asked, in shock, why she had done that, she simply said, "What does it matter? They were only full of silly words. What were you ever going to do with them?"

What indeed.

I should have gotten the message earlier. Mom hated my short stories, even when I received awards from school and teachers raved about them. She didn't even like my artwork, paintings etc. She said I had no talent, and no right to express it, repeatedly.

To warn me further, she gave me horror stories about how writers were all drunks, ne'er do wells and drug addicts, propogandized that journalists were Satan's spawn, and that writing - in fact any kind of creativity - was some form of certifiable insanity.

But as all good parents know, you should never demonize a child's preoccupations, because it only makes them more attractive. So it was with me.

By the time I left home - after Mommie Dearest sobbed at my decision to forgo University and form a rock band (she insisted I couldn't sing) - my course through life was set.

Goodbye to All That

I guess mothers the world over want what's best for their children. They want to protect them from failure and disappointment. But I always knew that if I did what Mommy wanted - to get that job in The Hardware Store (seriously) - then I would be forever bored and frustrated by a life of 'quiet desperation.'

Much better to me was a life of possibility - a life that involved 'making something of myself'' - whatever that meant.

Today, I've got what I want. A past full of music deals, playing guitar and singing in front of thousands of people, acting in theatre, TV and movie experience and a heap of fun times to look back on and other crazy memories. And now, I've got screenplays sold, 30 bestseeling books and a myriad of courses published all over the net, a new band, and a head full of wondrous ideas for the future. Not to mention the best girl in the world at my side - literally.

Okay, I experienced the failure and disappointment that all artists encounter along the way. But I wouldn't have traded any of that for the whole wide world. Artists need to be tested, to be rejected - it's all part of the process.

To 'protect' me from an authentic life would have been tantamount to switching off my life-support machine.

Zen and the Art of...

We create the life we want - or at least we should try to.

Douglas Adams - one of my heroes - once said, "We may not always end up where we wanted to go, but, if we follow our instincts, we often end up where we needed to be."

I love that. Very Zen, but no less profound.

Okay, I apologize if this article has been all about me. I know you're not supposed to do that in web articles. I should have been focussing on you - my dear reader - and how I can help.

But I hope you'll forgive me just this once - and if I do it again in the future!

Maybe there's something in the above that you can relate to - and that in itself may help you in some way.

I guess if there's a point to this article it would be:

Never be afraid to follow your heart - and do what you think will make you happy.

Your instincts - and your natural talents - exist for a reason.

They're there to help you make the right decisions for the sake of your sanity - and the satisfaction you receive from following your dreams is well worth the discomfort of going against those who might want to 'protect' you from your true self.

Mother does not always know best.

Now Dad, bless him, was another story - and for another time...

Until then,

Keep Writing!

Your Success is My Concern
Rob Parnell's Writing Academy