There is a part of me that yearns for freedom. That loathes the morning and the routine that comes with it. There is so much more in the world for me to see. I want to know the speed the grass grows at in India or if Peppermint tea will steam, drifting up and slightly to the left as it does in a little dorm room in Jamaica, if I am sailing to Tortola on a Saturday morning. The world as vast as it is seems to be a trap, closing me off and limiting my growth. I used to dream of the transformation of the day I would step out of my Kumbla and be the best writer this side of the world would have ever seen. I wanted to read in the papers that “Krys-Darcelle Dumas is the female Derek Walcott and we expect nothing less of her.” I wanted to be able to nod my head confidently knowing that it’s exactly what I could be. I would be a successful writer with my secluded beach house, where my inspiration would come to me in whispers over lattice works. I would be able
These days my dreams of freedom are changing. I am losing heart and had made my mind up a couple months ago that maybe I am reaching too far with this writing dream. Perhaps I should keep my day job, work my 8 - 4:30 and write my stories as my vents. That is of course provided any story decides to be told by me again. I feel untrained to tell the stories; like they are skirting around me waiting for a crack in the Kumbla to seep in, to peep and watch me till they think I have matured enough to be given the honor. Of course it is this thought that makes me feel not good enough. It is this thought that causes me the panic. I am wrapped tight now. Changing slowly and I’m not sure for the better. Each day that goes by makes me feel weaker, less able to fulfil my duties to these stories. My characters float inside my head demanding I find the strength to give them the life they torment me for. If I open the Kumbla however, that is it. Today would have to be for today. The Kumbla will be ruined. Where will I find another?
Then I should suppose that it is time to crack the Kumbla open Krys... Maybe it has shielded you for long enough.. Time to allow the characters free reign within yourself that they might have life.. You're keeping your faithful readers anxious, like expectant first time parents.. You've kept your babies safe for long enough within your head.. Push Krys..It's time to push.. We're waiting... Us and them.. :)
ReplyDeleteThe Kumbla remains closed protecting until we are strong enough to venture fort...this is your time Krys....i've always admired your style, direct and dripping with images, so real it shakes the reader deep inside memories. There is something to be said about a writer who can do that...you possess that power, it is time to break free.
ReplyDeleteOnly now seeing the comments guys sorry about that. I am trying to get out of it. The magic of the Kumbla is knowing when to come out, it is a precise thing that only you can know. My fears are causing doubt however. I will not sit till I shrivel but there is a part of me that knows I may be good now but I can be so much better. There is so much of the technical I have shyed away from that I know with a little practice I can master. I skipped a step (this is my secret)One should learn all the rules and then break them. I broke them without learning them. I want to go back and do some work there for a bit. That will take some time. Thank you still for the constant support and encouragement.
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