ArtsAutosBooksBusinessEducationEntertainmentFamilyFashionFoodGamesGenderHealthHolidaysHomeHubPagesPersonal FinancePetsPoliticsReligionSportsTechnologyTravel
  • »
  • Books, Literature, and Writing»
  • Books & Novels

Where Do Unicorns Go?

Updated on May 17, 2010

The Mythology of the Writer

"This they tell, and whether it happened so or not I do not know, but if you think about it, you can see that it is true." — Black Elk

I attended a seminar with David Almond today (author of Skellig and the soon-to-be-released My Name is Mina). He had some interesting things to say to us, and the above quote is a result of something he said.

The discussion was only partly about what I want to write about today. He mentioned the personal mythologies writers have about themselves and their work, and I had a good think about what mine were. I also thought about how important those mythologies are to our work and future stories that we haven't arrived at yet. The intrinsic sense that we have of ourselves and what we do has such a colossal impact on our writing that it might just possibly be too big and too quiet for us to see it.

I examined my mythology. Here's what I arrived at.

I believe that my writing ability was a gift from God, through my grandfather. As Black Elk so wisely said, this doesn't have to be physically, inarguably true. I believe in its truth. I believe in its truth because I feel it. My grandfather was not in my life for a long period of time. Almost twenty years have passed since he died. I have next to no recollection of him. I remember his foot. I remember the game he used to play with me by poking it out of his bed sheets and quickly pulling it back in again.

My mind doesn't remember him. My heart, and I believe, my soul, does. I can't explain why losing him has created a wonderful wound in me, when I can't remember him. I can't explain why, when I think on him, I find myself overwhelmed to the point of tears.

All I know, is that when I sit down and put my hands to work, I can feel him in my bones. I know that I feel swollen with an inexplicable passion. A passion for words, and the freedom of blank pages, and the beauty of small, black marks. I know that, had I been able to write in those blank years before my brain developed, I would have felt that same searing desire to get my colourful innards out into those black marks. I did not make my desire to write. It is in me as it has always been in me.

Whether it's the part of him that runs in my veins, whether that love in my blood is a fuel or not, whatever the real, inarguable, physical truth is, he touched all of me in a way I can't properly explain.

This is my mythology. I am a product of my grandfather's ineffable touch. In equal parts, a product of my father's unwavering faith and goodness, and my mother's untouchable strength and compassion. My parents have dosed me with their gifts to make who I am, and how I have used those gifts, for good or ill, has been my doing.

I believe my grandfather's touch conspired to make me what I am.

I believe that it is a gift because often, I don't feel myself when I'm writing. I don't feel like I'm writing at all. Another quote of the evening was, "You sometimes go to places where the stories are already happening". This feels entirely true of my writing. I am often not a creator. I'm a spectator. I am privy to places that no one else can see, unless I show them. I don't know my hands are moving when I'm truly writing. I am a journalist typing in a quiet corner of a world where Roman columns hold up a pink sky.

My gift is to walk amongst stories, not create them. Perhaps this is scientific. Perhaps my subconscious does it for me, and my conscious is simply the tool it uses to relay its creations.

But that is not my mythology, and neither will I ever use it in my stories.

It might not be fact. It might be the artist in me trying to be too exostential. It might all be another story I've conjured around a piece of my past.

But it is, nonetheless, true; and it does, nonetheless, shape me and my work. It's always going to shape me and my work.

What's your mythology?


    0 of 8192 characters used
    Post Comment

    • Pocketbrit profile image

      Pocketbrit 7 years ago from Doncaster, UK

      Haha, you're quite welcome.

    • kaltopsyd profile image

      kaltopsyd 7 years ago from Trinidad originally, but now in the USA

      I'm sorry I have to laugh at "Zeus came down from Olympus and travelled across Europe..." You know what? I kinda like that. I may just make a story out of that one. Thanks. lol.

    • Pocketbrit profile image

      Pocketbrit 7 years ago from Doncaster, UK

      @Eric - Thank you for the compliment! I often think the exposure that comes with writing is more about communication than it is narcissism. We write for others to read, we write to explain ourselves in the hope that there are others who understand and love and hate the way we do. If writing keeps you up at night, you have the gift of it - whether it makes you gifted or not is down to what you do with it. Thanks for commenting! :)

      @Kalto - And thank you, also, for the compliment! I'll try not to be too creeped out, I promise. ;) Feel free to use the quote as you like.

      I think "picked up a pencil and started writing" is enough of a mythology. I don't think you need some earth-shattering, 'Zeus came down from Olympus and travelled across Europe in a two-man plane to present me with this here pen' story. You had the seed and your mum helped water it. It's as strong a story as any. :)

    • kaltopsyd profile image

      kaltopsyd 7 years ago from Trinidad originally, but now in the USA

      You do have a gift for writing. There's passion in all your words. I can sense it (I know that's a little creepy). I've got to use a quote from this Hub and credit you: "My gift is to walk amongst stories, not create them." I really like that quote.

      I don't have a story like yours, no writing mythology. One day I just picked up a pencil and started writing. I was 7. My mum has always encouraged it though.

      Good Hub.

    • profile image

      ericvonjed 7 years ago

      You certainly have mastered the craft of writing. As for me, to answer your question, I wonder if I'm just another self-absorbed narcicist, or maybe something worse, exposing myself on the most personal level possible by writing. Or am I really a gifted writer? It keeps me up at night. Writing, that is.

    • SwanofWar profile image

      SwanofWar 7 years ago from In My Imagination

      Once again, my friend, we understand each other. As for myself, I can only attribute my gift to God and to my mother's prayers. There is no one in my family who shares my talent (except my brother, but his gift is for editing). I have no ancestor to thank for this gift, nor was it my own creation. When I write, I feel I can see the entire universe before me and all the great stories are mine for the taking. Then, I realize that I am a child mimicking what our Father in Heaven did at the dawn of time - creating a world with words. So I don't fear failure, because I know I was given this gift for a reason and the acts of God are never made in vain.