I have been writing since I was kid. It was my escape from the mind numbing mentally abusive early teenage years I was faced with. I would sit for hours in my room, day after day writing my imagination out on paper. I would fill notebooks to the brim with ideas, short stories and sometimes epic teenage novels. I could never tell my parents this was what I was passionate about. They would have crushed it like a bug on the wall. My interests were of no concern to them, and I was seemingly invisible, still am to be honest. My stories became sacred to me. I wouldn’t let anyone read them in fear of rejection (See “Things I was told all the time as a child” footnotes for more on THAT subject). There were only two people who I grew to trust with my most sacred words, Jenna and Mara. Those women are still large parts of my life to this day, and are saints for it. I would be on the phone with Jenna for hours (Remember this was before the internet was huge and cell phones) reading to her page after page of the worlds I had created. She always listened and encouraged me to keep it up. Mara was also the same. She was the person I sent my paragraphs to in college (post internet craze, I still didn’t have a cell phone though). I could depend on her to edit what I had been working on and always took her comments in stride. Up until two years ago, they were the only two. I wouldn’t even finish writing assignments in high school or college out of the same fear of rejection. They are right when they say “adolescent scars take years to heal”.
After college, I became involved in the fixed gear bicycle community here in Chicago. At the time, on the surface I thought it was the greatest thing since sliced bread. I was making new and interesting friends who shared similar interests as me (art and bikes!) and falling in love with the wrong type of guy. The time I spent in the biking community inspired me once again to continue writing. I was only sharing with Mara like before and recorded all the fucked up things that happened in the community including things done to myself. Those years were some of the hardest of my life. I learned so many life lessons, let alone personal ones no one could ever prepare you for. I did on the other hand meet some amazing individuals who I am happy to say are the glue to my skeletal existence today. They are the people who unknowingly pushed me to want to share our story in a big way. Writing this story as a book never felt quite right. It wasn’t until I seen HBO Girls and Lena Dunham (who is also my age and struggles with similar insecurities)that I knew without a doubt what the right path would be.
I started writing the series “Fears and Gears” 2.5 years ago with one scene. It only took the opening scene to the pilot to put the Heavy Metal Bearded Boyfriends doubts aside. He was flabbergasted at my choice. Here is a man, who thought he knew everything about the person he was in love with and then BAM he didn’t. When you have lived a very complicated life such as mine, you still have chances to surprise the ones you love quite often. To my surprise, he was flabbergasted in a good way. I completely floored his preconceived notion and kept him wanting more. He turned to me and said “Tell me what happens next!”. Mission accomplished, this was exactly what I wanted to do with my life.
So, here I am, twiddling my thumbs still wondering if I am good enough. There is interest in my story and show. My pilot took 2.5 years of hard work and preparation to get it where it is today. It is off in the hands of industry professionals being poked, prodded and judged on whether it is worthy enough to be on air. I should be nervous about this but honestly I am more nervous writing about it right now. Up until now, only a select few know what I have been up to. Even less people have been given the opportunity to actually READ what I have been slaving away at. Again, we are back to those adolescent scars. I still feel I am not good enough. I have friends who are articulate, use big words and know how to use proper grammar; they scare the shit out of me. Those are the people who honestly inadvertently make me feel stupid. I have a 5th grade reading level for the most part, and don’t know proper grammar 100%. I know there will be some people reading this saying to themselves “This girl is a fucking idiot” and it will be people I know. Writing to me isn’t about proper grammar or big words, it’s about telling a story and being blood thirsty passionate about it. If every writer was perfect at the technical aspects of writing people called EDITORS would be out of a job.
This is my moment to “LEAN IN” so to speak. I need to stop being worried about what others are going to think of my work and be proud of what I have accomplished instead. It doesn’t matter what someone thinks about me. They do not have to live my life. They do not have to look at my face every day in the mirror and remind me “YOU DA BEST GURL”. I am my own worst enemy and it needs to stop. RIGHT NOW. This is what this blog is all about. I am here to speak my mind, share my stories and let the world know exactly who I am. I want to be in the writing world and I don’t give a fuck how late in the game I’m entering. AT LEAST I AM ENTERING IN THE FIRST PLACE. I don’t give a fuck if you think I have shitty grammar or need to use a thesaurus more because that isn’t who I am. You’re going to want to know what happens next. You’re going to give a shit about what this lady right here has to say. I’m a story teller and I’m going to tell the stories, all the stories and it’s going to be EPIC.
I’m EhrynSka and I am going to be a T. V. writer whether you like it or not.
*curls up in a ball on the floor after realizing she just shared her secret with the rest of the world.*