Wednesday 14 March 2012

Outside Looking in?

When I was a kid, in summer, I loved getting up before anyone else – even my dad, who’s a pretty early riser himself – and slipping out of the house to explore the grounds of the environmental studies centre I grew up at. As I got older, I’d go out walking with only the dog for company. I wasn’t completely antisocial; I had a few friends, but school wasn’t a happy place for me – I got bullied a lot – so I was most content when I was at home with my books and my animals, my fields and my woods. I had a sister who was usually willing to be my partner in crime, and I was perfectly happy with my own company, too. I don’t ever remember feeling lonely.

Then I moved up to secondary school, where it seemed, suddenly, that the Most Important Thing In The World™ was to find your way into a group of some sort. And it didn’t take me long to realise I didn’t really fit in with any of the groups at-all. 

The trouble is, when you’re a teenager, fitting in can be everything. The friends I had at school were outsider-y types themselves, but I didn’t even feel as if I had much in common with them. Why was I still happier reading a book than going to parties and hanging round in a group? Why did I still enjoy ‘boring’ stuff like walking through the woods, or sitting on a beach and gazing out to sea?

What was wrong with me?

By the time I reached my late teenage years, I felt shut off, with no idea of who I really was or what I wanted to do (except to write, of course; I honestly believe this is what kept me sane back then). Things finally changed when I went to university and met other people – including the man who’s now my husband – who didn’t think reading books or gazing out to sea was boring at-all.

Still, it’s taken until quite recently for me to feel comfortable in my own skin, and to stop questioning why, as much as I enjoy talking to and meeting up with my friends, I need time by myself, too. What’s helped is the realisation that I need a balance. Too much time alone and I start to feel stale and cut off from reality – and as a result, so does my writing. Conversely, too much time with other people, especially in large groups, just wears me out. I need time with others to stimulate me and draw me out of myself, but time alone to allow my creative well to refill.

And what about my experiences as a kid and teenager? If I could go back, would I change them? Yes and no. No-one deserves to be bullied – it still affects me now, and I know people who had it way, way worse than I ever did. But no matter what happened, I think I would have felt outside of things in some way, because it’s just who I am – and a facet of my personality that, as a writer, I now find incredibly useful. Whatever genre you write in, you need to have the ability to observe and feel empathy for all sorts of people and situations; to find your way under the skins of characters who might be quite different to you. Being on the outside looking in has definitely helped me with that.

And if you prefer reading a novel to hitting the high street? Walking along the edge of a muddy field, watching the rooks rise from the trees, to being packed shoulder to shoulder in a sweaty club?

There’s nothing wrong with that. And there’s nothing wrong with you.

52 comments:

  1. Emma, this really resonated with me -- although I wasn't bullied (too much), I always felt like I didn't fit in or belong. It's often still true. And it's one of the recurring themes in my writing, which is why like you I have mixed feelings about changing the past. Being on the outside looking in helps with the creative process -- but I often wonder what it would have been like to be comfortable on the inside of myself and on the outside with others... and that is another thing I love experimenting with in writing because I'll never know for sure. GREAT POST. Love it.

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    1. Thank you, Julia! I'm really glad you liked it. x

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  2. Should we form a club or would that be too inclusive for us outsiders? That hit a tender spot with me too Emma, and like you I find it's a theme that comes back time and again in my writing. Thanks for that insight.

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    1. You're welcome, Cameron. Thank you for your comment!

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  3. I love this post, Emma - I think it may resonate with virtually every writer. I wasn't bullied, but I did think I was odd, because I liked to sit and look, rather than join in all the time. And I like quietness rather than continuous noise. Anthony Storr wrote a wonderful book on 'Solitude' which really reassured me. He's great on 'Creativity' too. Made me feel I was actually just another kind of normal.

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    1. Exactly, Jenny - it IS normal; it's just so many kids are made to feel it isn't, and I think that's a shame. I will have to try that book, it sounds great.

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  4. Oh, my goodness. This was so ME. No matter how much my parents tried to get me to play soccer or love day camp or ride my bike with the other kids, about half the time I had the story I happened to be reading at the time swimming around in my brain and making me a total space cadet. :) People actually thought I was one of "those" kids...smart, but not too SMART, you know?

    And you know what? Not much has changed.

    It's funny. I see my oldest doing the same thing. Mooning around, telling himself stories about his legos or making up games for his plastic dinosaurs. Half the time, he doesn't hear us talking. If I get frustrated, I just have to remind myself - he's just like me.

    Anyway. Beautiful post. Really, really love it. THANK YOU.

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    1. Aw, thank you, Leigh Ann. Sounds like you have another writer in the family - hurrah!

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  5. Love this Emma. It's taken me years to accept being me.
    A great post :)

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  6. I think most kids feel like this - and quite a lot of adults - that's the eternal appeal of ya fiction...

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    1. Absolutely, Kathryn. I'm sure that's why I found my niche with YA, too. Thank you for commenting!

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  7. I could have written this myself. Thank you! I'll read a book or stare out at the sea with you any time :)

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  8. Can I join the club, please? I'm not a big fan of clubs, but for this one I will make an exception.

    Perfectly summed up my childhood, thank you x

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  9. Great post, Emma. It's a difficult journey, learning to feel happy in our own skins. Sorry it's been so tough for you - and I'm glad that you feel ok now - so much so that you are able to post this! Thank you.

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    1. Ah, thank you, Jo. Glad you enjoyed it. x

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  10. Yes, yes, yes, that sounds exactly like me too! And (for me, at least) the great thing about the internet and Twitter is that it lets us happy freaks hang out together... without having to relinquish our precious solitary space.

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    1. Kate, I totally agree! Thanks for your comment. x

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  11. Jo, there is no club, because there doesn't need to be, and you're already not in it. ;-) Thank you! x

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  12. Wow, great stuff and now I feel like sharing a story.

    I never fitted into a group, never wanted to, and the best part of secondary school came when I was 16. A girl who was always moving from one sect to another gave me a long look and said "George WHAT are you?"

    I shrugged my shoulders, but she carried on, "Are you a metal head, a goth, a hippy..."

    She went on I just kept shaking my head. In the end she said, "No, your not are you. You're just a George." and she meant it, and accepted it.

    BRILLIANT! AT LAST!

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    1. George, that is brilliant - I love it! :D

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  13. I love this post, Emma. I can see myself in there!

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  14. Thank you, Claire! I'm really pleased it's resonated with so many people.

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  15. Beautiful post, Emma! I can completely relate, right down to meeting my soul mate/future husband in college and waiting until adulthood until I felt comfortable in my skin. My Dear Teen Me letter coming in May has a very similar feel to this. I guess many of us writers start out the same way.

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  16. Thank you, Cat! I think we must do. I look forward to reading your Dear Teen Me letter.

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  17. I agree with everyone else, I think many writers feel the same, perhaps that's how we can empathise and have the ability to engage in so many different characters and situations in life... I struggled until my early thirties to understand myself, but now I am totally happy with who I am! It's been painful watching my children go through the same things at school as me, but so proud that they are happy to be different and to stand up for their beliefs. I wanted to be accepted so badly, it hurt so much to be an outsider, but I can see that my kids will achieve acceptance in their own heads and hearts much quicker than I did!

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    1. Thank you, Lisa. Accepting that it's just who you are makes it so much easier, but it's not an easy thing to do - ironic, huh? I'm glad your children are happy to stand up for their own beliefs!

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  18. I'm not a total loner, but no clubs.... I do love to be in a somewhat crowded room, off in a corner or at a table (barrier) just listening in. I don't always need to be a part, but I don't want to be totally out either. Good post.

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    1. Thank you! I know what you mean; I like to listen and people-watch too - another thing that helps with the writing. :)

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  19. Let me add my voice to the mix and say what a beautiful post this was. I agree that going through difficult times can make us better artists -- and give us the gift of empathy -- but I'm also really sorry to hear you were bullied. Thanks for sharing such a personal experience in such a thoughtful way.

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  20. Fantastic post Emma, very thought provoking and revealing x

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  21. Brilliant post! It has been an epiphany for me, as an adult, to read Dorothy Rowe's theories about extraverts & introverts (and she has a very specific way to define those terms - cf her brilliant & v clear explanation!). The majority of people, she says, are extraverts... and as a consequence if you are an introvert it's easy to feel odd & 'wrong'. I wish someone had told me, as a teenager & at uni, that I was simply in a different category - a perfectly valid category - & it wasn't a personal failing that I found socialising, just as you say, exhausting...

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    1. It is exhausting! I am actually quite pleased that I am past the 'clubbing' phase of my life, where all my friends wanted to do was go out every weekend. It was an effort to go out with them, and an effort to defend my reasons for not wanting to go!

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    2. Thank you, Harriet! I've read some of Dorothy Rowe's theories too (and will be hunting them down to re-read!) - like you say, it's just another way of being, but people can often be made to feel it's the *wrong* way, which is a real shame.

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  22. Gorgeous post - one that I can relate to on all levels. Really, not much to add - just lovely! x

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  23. I think I am still stuggling to understand myself, but with writing I do finally feel that I have found my place in the world! And it's helping me understand myself a little better, or maybe just accept myself? Who knows!
    I'd never really thought specifically about why I write YA fiction - but I think it's because emotionally I am still there! I wouldn't know how to go about writing for adults because (despite the fact that I am approaching 30!) I don't really understand the world of grown ups at all!

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    1. Laura Mary, that is *exactly* why I write YA too (and I'm around the same age as you). I don't feel like a "grown up"… never have… probably never will.

      I'm glad writing is helping you to find your place in the world - I certainly feel like it's done that for me. Very best of luck with it! :)

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  24. Snap, Emma & Laura! And I am 41!

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  25. This post brought back memories, Emma. I too was bullied, looked down at the floor everywhere I went - just so I wouldn't be picked on, could barely say a word in a 'crowd' of three and if I could have spent my young life locked up in my room with books or writing poetry (I pretty much did when I was home anyway), that would have been just fine by me. I'm still shy in certain situations but am stronger in others and have risen above what inconsequential people thought of me.

    "And if you prefer reading a novel to hitting the high street? Walking along the edge of a muddy field, watching the rooks rise from the trees, to being packed shoulder to shoulder in a sweaty club?

    There’s nothing wrong with that. And there’s nothing wrong with you." SO TRUE! Loved this. :D

    Thank you!

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  26. Thank you for sharing this, Sandra. I'm really sorry to hear you were bullied too. ((hugs))

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  27. What a wonderful post, Emma. You're right - no one should be made to feel that there's something wrong with them, but the teen years are all about conformity, sadly. You do realise when you're older that there's nothing at all wrong with you, thank goodness. I loved solitude then and I love it now, and I've learned to embrace it.

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    1. Thank you, Talli! That's what I've realised too - thank goodness, indeed. :)

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