by Jane Simpson

Created on: April 12, 2009

By strict definition, putting words on paper(or maybe in a laptop) is a fairly new thing for me. I could never get the words down. But creatively, I've been writing stories, in my mind, since my teenage years.

As a teenager, i never really fit in with my peer group. I had friends and participated in activities but I never really felt myself to be a part of the action. I was always much more involved in the story that was going on in my head. And the stories that were going on in my head were always much more interesting than anything in my real life both to me and to others. Occasionally I would share the stories orally and they were always greeted with exclamations about how I should write that down because someday I would probably be a writer. The problem was that I couldn't write it down.

This continued into college and even after I began my career as a teacher. On the way to class every morning I would begin a new story about something, anything. Usually I was the main character, but the "I" in my stories was very far removed from who I actually was. When I think back on the stories, I don't see myself in them at all. I just wish I had been able to get them all down in written form because, as I recall, they were quite entertaining. Some were your basic Harlequin romance, some were gothic tales of mystery and romance, some were good old- fashioned spy stories. Fifteen years before Tom Clancy published Hunt for Red October I had written my own story about a submarine captain who hijacked his submarine in an attempt to defect. Tom Clancy's captain was Russian and wanted asylum. Mine was American and wanted a Russian Ballerina he had met in France. Clancy's story was probably better than mine but since I couldn't get my idea out of my mind and down on paper we'll never know for sure.

A couple of years ago I was diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. The psychaitrist seemed to think I would be surprised by the diagnosis. Truth be told no one who knew me was surprised. I began a regiment of medication which has been changed several times. About two months ago, shortly after the meds were changed, I started to write quite prolificly.

In the past, when I had tried to write down some of my stories, I had found myself unable to make any progress because I'd get stuck on whether to use that or which in a sentence. Or I'd realize I had used the same descriptive adjective twice. I think the worst one ever was once, when I had managed to do almost three pages and realized I didn't like the font. OF course, a normal person would have just changed the font. But I couldn't. I had to start over and then I could never get those three pages back in a way that I deemed as good as the originals.

Since I've started the new medication, I can buzz along quite well. I don't fixate on silly things and I've written over 75 short stories in the past two months. I don't trust my creativity enough, at this point, to share more than one or two at a time; but, just the act of finally, after all these years, writing down these thoughts I have had whirling around in my brain,has been the most liberating experience. I'm enjoying every minute of it and that is the reason I write. Because finally, I can.

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