Coming out of the Shell

I enjoy listening to interviews with well known writers, such as the ones conducted on the ABC by Richard Fidler and Sarah Kanowski   Being storytellers, they provide interviews full of fascinating facts about their writer's life, their history, and their techniques.  Most of the authors will tell how they knew, even at a very young age, that they wanted to write, or, at least, that they had a fascination with the making and telling of stories. Perhaps it is true in many fields of creative endeavour - that the artist to be already has that drive towards, or fascination with, the path that is calling them.

How many authors do you know who can say that they had wanted since childhood to pursue a career as a writer, whether of poetry, prose, or plays?

How many people do you know who are not authors who could say that they, too, once harboured dreams of writing?

How many more held such hopes and do not tell?  What happened to those dreams?  Do they still nurse the flickering candle of creativity, keeping it alive in some dark corner, waiting for some ideal moment to bring it out and show it to the world?  Dig deeper and you will often find that they did write, when they were younger, but something, or someone, happened to them, and the dream was stifled.

I don't have proof at a scientifically acceptable level, but I have, and have heard of, personal experience that says that most people do have that creative drive when they are young - if not for writing, then for visual arts, or music, or some other creative endeavour. 

There are so many ways to wound or damage that early creativity - poor teaching methods can confuse a budding young author and make it all seem much harder than it need be; peers, parents, and partners, can easily, though often accidentally, stamp on the embers of imagination before they properly ignite.  Sometimes it seems that modern society prefers the dull porridge of conformity over the bright fire of creativity. 

That so many famous authors are able to relate their own versions of the many encounters with fans at social events, talks, and book signings - the one where the person says to the author "I want to write a book too, I have a story, but......." - says that the dream doesn't die; at least, not completely. 

How do we lose contact with those early dreams of creativity? 

Do people ever lose contact completely, or do those dreams lurk like a frightened tortoise within its bony shell, waiting for the right moment to pop its head out and recommence its journey.  While the tortoise hides, unique stories remain untold, and could be lost forever to the fabric of the greater human story.

If you know such a tortoise, give it space; gently speak or sing to it of the ways you found to continue your own writing journey - if you are such a tortoise, please come out; your stories are just as valuable as ours, and we are waiting to hear them.  If you know someone, no matter how young or old, who is trying to tell a story, listen to them and encourage them; let them know that you, too, are on such a journey, and that they are not alone.