When I wrote Rip Out Your Vocal Cords: An Open Letter, something strange happened. I can’t put it into words. Here, my aim is to clarify the intent of the letter. When I write I am in the trenches, deep into my emotions. More often than not I am a peacemaker. I often sacrifice myself to achieve what I believe is the greater good. Through my writing I have found a way to express my angst as well as my many voices, and ideas.
On The Verge isn’t about me. It’s about that moment. You know the one, you are on the verge many times in life. On The Verge isn’t good or bad. It’s everything while being nothing at the same time. Life isn’t black and white. For me, this platform is either a personal essay or social comment. My intent is never go judge or be a hater. However, I am authentic 100% of the time when writing.
When my body of work is read, I hope it is clear that I leave room for evolution, growth, change and endurance…survival. Life gets ugly. When it does my writing may feel ugly. The truth often is filthy, vile. A pill not many can swallow. In my writing you will find no classic archetypes. I believe everyone will play various roles in my story as well as their own. In fact, I play roles in my written stories; I don’t ever want to hurt anyone or for people to think that my rant voice is my actual voice. It is a character. I’m injecting my experience because I feel it’s a universal message. You will find me in my writing. Varying shades, characteristics and truth. My rants–yes, they are a part of me, but my real Boss voice is nothing like that. Even when I do hand someone their ass it is a conversation. Really, an education. I let them say what they have to say, then I ask the questions letting them answer their own contradictions.
No one ever says what they are feeling. Often it is between the lines. So I say or ask what I think they are afraid to ask. Now, customer service-wise (a past life of mine), I am also polite. I am just armed with information at all times. It is hard to argue with me because I hate arguing so I don’t unless I can end it quickly. I also don’t ever argue with someone about faith. My dad taught me that if you are polite and listen, the person causing the loudest scuff stops because they did not get you worked up.
My superpower is not getting annoyed when everyone else does. I give advice I would take, want and believe, always with the idea that I don’t write someone off. Even after the fallout from my open letters and rants. Just because we aren’t friends doesn’t mean I will make an enemy out of you. I don’t need to be the one to push you off the end . Who knows who could get hurt? I will just keep my mouth shut. It is how I am. Which is why it hurts me that some readers think I am I bad mouthing them to the world.
Consider this when reading my work: I may be drawing from life events past or present. I may be dreaming of the future trying to get a happy ending or warning myself and others of the pitfalls ahead. I could be drawing from world events or my favorite media, there is a lot to consume.
I will give you this one truth about me: I would rather write a rave than a rant. If I wrote a rant, it’s because I wanted to set change in motion. When and if the change occurs, my rave will be all the more satisfying. I don’t want to filet anyone. I want things to get better. Sometimes the only way to be heard is to categorically describe the problem. That gets ugly. But when I rave it’s beautiful, because that truth is also universally enchanting.