Quarantine-inspired cleaning continues to uncover some treasures of the past. I stumbled upon a box of old papers—particularly, my writing. Some from college, like an interview with an old friend-turned famous magician, Mike Carbonaro (yes, totally name-dropping, but it’s not like I know him now, so does that really count? lol); some school essays; and a really, really old writing notebook from my middle school days.
Wow, did I really love writing, and what was most amazing about my discovery was that I was as diverse then as I was now.
I guess I never wanted to ever be labelled as a certain kind of writer; words were my life, and they did not want to be repressed in a box.
As I read through the notebook, I was equally surprised at how almost-complete some things were, and also how I forgot what I wrote!
Now, I recall that wish that inspired me to begin a multi-chapter teen romance that never saw completion or publication. I’m considering using it as an inspiration for a future book. Little Jenny had some great sparks in that creative head of hers.
I started writing a full-on soap opera script—we’re talking timed scenes, commercial breaks, multi-character sequences—for two whole days. I remember before embarking on this, writing to Days of Our Lives suggesting plot points (and also offering to be an actress for them to make sure the role was delivered “correctly.” I wonder why I never got a response? But I did see my idea play out! Hmmm.)
I can remember sitting down with my Casio keyboard and composing not one, but several pieces of music! As in, I wrote lyrics and recorded the melody to go along with them.
Rock the Rhythm, My Heart, Good as Gold, Mom, Love at First Sight, I Should Be Feeling Good (About Me), Go Ahead Leave, Shadows, Moments of the Past—like, I literally have an entire album here!!
And reading those lyrics, holy hell was I deep and full of emotion. (I mean, read the title, if that doesn’t tell you anything…)
I smiled with joy as I read through my old work. But you know what else I did? I cried for the little girl who pushed those dreams aside. Why did she stop writing like this, and not resume until she was in her late 30’s? What made her not finish that book, or share her musical ideas?
No, I don’t want to go back through the past and live with regrets. That wouldn’t serve anything. But maybe, just maybe, if somehow I give little Jenny her voice back—take what she started and turned it into magic today, her and I can be one again in many other ways.
So, my story is not one of a single book or piece of work. It’s about my many layers; my many emotions; my many voices.
And each one is a perfect expression of who I am, and who others can relate to.