goingtothebasement

A writer writesmy friend Jeremy told me that after a very special appreciation dinner. He admitted it's a reoccurring line from "Throw Mama from the Train," a movie I didn't seeshe, uh, the trailers were just too unattractive. I've kept it in my head ever sincereminding myself. I don't know why really.maybe it's because I believe it's a factual defintion."If I do, then I am" But moreover, I probably think that if it's what I do, even when I don't feel motivatedif I can put some words together on a regular basis, not just once every month or so.AND, if it's got some substancesome promisewell, then that's what a writer isisn't it? And then, there's a part of me that doesn't caredoesn't care if what I do fits a culturally accepted view of a "writer." My mom has said to me over the years, usually after I've filled in a totally blank birthday card for her, "Oh, Morgan you need to send your writing in to get published!" To, which I respond, "You don't get itthis I do for me. It's not about recognition." (Anyway, I have such a disapproving view of what our culture embraces, I'm not sure I want some schmoe at a magazine giving me his "atta-boy!") Although, given some time and reflection, I'll eventually make it down to the basement where the real emotions are kept and poke around with a flashlightand there covered with dust next to the old insecurities from middle school, nestled between the acne years and teen angst is a little guy timidly and reluctantly slowly raising a hand as if to say"WellI wouldn't mind some attention"a little accolade, from the right person or peoplewho knows who that might be.critical acclaim, if you will. Then I reach out my hand to stuff the little guy back between the boxes of denial and unpleasant memoriesI don't just lay pen to paper about the external forces of lifeIt may be about thembut most likely it will be about how they effect the internal places of my lifeDo I really want Mr. Schmoe at "Mediocrity Today" telling me that my emotions aren't good enough for his presses? ( I see the box labeled "fear" is open) I'm a fairly confident guy, but c-mon!? It sounds like fun, "Not." When I first started sending these things out via e-mail, I kind of wondered what my motivation waswas it for pats on the back? Was it a device to stoke the fire of ego? Maybe at first there was twinge of ego slipping inBut the more I write, the more I realize, it is just for me. There's a "realtionship" with writing that strips my defenses like no one I knowto sit here and type is not to look at a 14" screenbut to dial up the server that connects at 56k to emotions I keep a few layers down. And sometimes I wrestle with that"Why can't I just keep them closer to the surfacecloser to everyoneless guarded. And I get back to the fact that life and/or subconscience decisions have made me that way.I just thank God that He has given me a way to get to themto shine the light. So what is my motivation for sending these silly things out to you?Sometimes I think it's like a steaming batheasing myself inslowly getting exposed to this intimate process of mine, that may go public one day. And sometimes (more often) I think that the vulnerability I find in myself is fairly universal (isn't that like "kind of pregnant?). And that we struggle to be dialed into the part of our being that is most sensitivemost guarded.the part that God really digs. I know that when I go there, He's usually been there for quite some time, sitting in a big overstuffed chair with a wry smile as if to say, "What took you so long?" And the insecuritythe fearthe self-doubtare eclipsed.chased out.by the Master of our soul. I write to stay in touch with the soul that God put in methe one that He hangs inI send them to you, to lovingly and vulnerably inspire you to do it with me.got your flashlight?



	2/27/99 11:40 "Going to the Basement" -Morgan Young A writer writesmy friend Jeremy told me that after a very special appreciation dinner. He admitted it's a reoccurring line from "Throw Mama from the Train," a movie I didn't seeshe, uh, the trailers were just too unattractive. I've kept it in my head ever sincereminding myself. I don't know why really.maybe it's because I believe it's a factual defintion."If I do, then I am" But moreover, I probably think that if it's what I do, even when I don't feel motivatedif I can put some words together on a regular basis, not just once every month or so.AND, if it's got some substancesome promisewell, then that's what a writer isisn't it? And then, there's a part of me that doesn't caredoesn't care if what I do fits a culturally accepted view of a "writer." My mom has said to me over the years, usually after I've filled in a totally blank birthday card for her, "Oh, Morgan you need to send your writing in to get published!" To, which I respond, "You don't get itthis I do for me. It's not about recognition." (Anyway, I have such a disapproving view of what our culture embraces, I'm not sure I want some schmoe at a magazine giving me his "atta-boy!") Although, given some time and reflection, I'll eventually make it down to the basement where the real emotions are kept and poke around with a flashlightand there covered with dust next to the old insecurities from middle school, nestled between the acne years and teen angst is a little guy timidly and reluctantly slowly raising a hand as if to say"WellI wouldn't mind some attention"a little accolade, from the right person or peoplewho knows who that might be.critical acclaim, if you will. Then I reach out my hand to stuff the little guy back between the boxes of denial and unpleasant memoriesI don't just lay pen to paper about the external forces of lifeIt may be about thembut most likely it will be about how they effect the internal places of my lifeDo I really want Mr. Schmoe at "Mediocrity Today" telling me that my emotions aren't good enough for his presses? ( I see the box labeled "fear" is open) I'm a fairly confident guy, but c-mon!? It sounds like fun, "Not." When I first started sending these things out via e-mail, I kind of wondered what my motivation waswas it for pats on the back? Was it a device to stoke the fire of ego? Maybe at first there was twinge of ego slipping inBut the more I write, the more I realize, it is just for me. There's a "realtionship" with writing that strips my defenses like no one I knowto sit here and type is not to look at a 14" screenbut to dial up the server that connects at 56k to emotions I keep a few layers down. And sometimes I wrestle with that"Why can't I just keep them closer to the surfacecloser to everyoneless guarded. And I get back to the fact that life and/or subconscience decisions have made me that way.I just thank God that He has given me a way to get to themto shine the light. So what is my motivation for sending these silly things out to you?Sometimes I think it's like a steaming batheasing myself inslowly getting exposed to this intimate process of mine, that may go public one day. And sometimes (more often) I think that the vulnerability I find in myself is fairly universal (isn't that like "kind of pregnant?). And that we struggle to be dialed into the part of our being that is most sensitivemost guarded.the part that God really digs. I know that when I go there, He's usually been there for quite some time, sitting in a big overstuffed chair with a wry smile as if to say, "What took you so long?" And the insecuritythe fearthe self-doubtare eclipsed.chased out.by the Master of our soul. I write to stay in touch with the soul that God put in methe one that He hangs inI send them to you, to lovingly and vulnerably inspire you to do it with me.got your flashlight?