Part 7: Now I know what it means.

When I woke up late in the afternoon and read it all the way through for the first time, I realized that I'd written something about me, on so many levels. The amazing thing to me is that I really wasn't aware I was expressing something deep in me at the time I was doing it. Maybe if I was being more self-critical I might have seen it and edited myself. Maybe I do it all the time.

First, how is The Migration a subconscious expression of my inner state? The obvious example is Charlie-as-Irvin. I mean, I can't remember my hair ever cooperating with me. I was the kid with the cowlick. To this day, my hair is so fine that I must shower first thing every morning if I want my hair to not be vertical. Then there's having a friendship with the girl I'm really into, while she'd only consider the studly jock for anything more than friendship. Like Charlie, I was the guy without the car, waiting at the bus stop, having nerdy aspirations and alot of free Friday nights. Allison is every girl I've secretly wanted but was not in the league of - being the friend was the closest I was going to get. As for Steve, he's got the car, the blond pompadour, the adoring friends and the cruel disposition. Did I mention I went to CDO High School in Tucson, Arizona? If you did too, you either caused my trauma (and ended up helping my write my story!) or know what I'm talking about. This exercise somehow exposed the wounded 15 year old that's still in me somewhere.

the story's theme is also something I relate to all too well, and I'm probably not the only one. The notion of searching for the place where you fit in, cause you certainly don't fit in where you are. And I know that this is usually the case with adolescents the world over, the feeling of awkwardness, that you don't fit in. Charlie brings out the nerdiness of the girl (is there anything hotter than the girl who can go geek for geek with you?) and together they solve the anthropological riddle, and my inner fantasy continues with Charlie's discovery of exactly what his purpose is, why he doesn't fit in where he is (his permanent bad hair day is due to his true spiritual nature), and how he can journey to a place where he's got a purpose, where other's like him are waiting for him to join them.

In that way it was great therapy. I think I exercised my wounded inner nerd, experiencing my teenage yearnings vicariously. Charlie stands up to the bully, even defeats him before Steve unwittingly facilitates his transition to the "settlement in the stars". Altogether a very successful endeavor.

But what does this say about the act of writing? I guess it implies that writing really is from within the author. They say that every drawing is really a self-portrait, so why not every story an autobiography? And in this case, my inner experience came forth so purely that I feel it and recognize it with no doubt. And it was truly therapy. Perhaps I actually slew an inner demon or two. I do know I felt a hell of alot better that next morning. And all I was trying to do was write something.