Poetry and a Bruce Lee Film
My Journey to writing - Part One: It started with poetry and a Bruce Lee movie.
Hello Nightlies,
This is it. My first official post on Substack and it has taken me almost two weeks to get here. I am terrified. I am elated. I am a writer who does not share her work with anyone. Why? Mostly because I fear how you, dear reader, (or as I call you, the Nightlies), will not enjoy it. Some days, I feel as though I can do this and others I feel like a fraud. But it has to start somewhere, right?
My writing journey began with Bruce Lee.
As a teen, I was never a popular girl. I had a small group of friends that I loved and that was it. I did not get asked out by boys, ever. Maybe it was my awful haircut. Perhaps the glasses? All I know is that I did not and could not look like the other girls around me, especially in a Texas small town. But this would all change one summer, just before my fourteenth birthday. That’s when I met a boy named Vince.
I can’t recall the exact way that we met, but I’m almost certain we were set up by a mutual friend. Technically, our first meeting was not in person. It was over the phone and it lasted for weeks before we met in person. Somehow, the mere sound of our voices had the two of us completely head over heels for each other. We agreed to meet in person and, after some coaxing, our respective parents agreed to drive us to the theatre. Our first date was a trip to see Dragon: The Bruce Lee Story. (Vince was a big Bruce Lee fan, if I recall.) I remember being so nervous! I had no idea who Bruce Lee was nor did I understand Jeet Kune Do at this point in my life. We’d steal moments from the movie to sneak peeks at one another. We held hands. We may have even kissed. But I knew one thing was for certain, this was the one. THE one.
And that’s where the writing began.
Not in the theatre, but shortly thereafter. I wanted to share my feelings with this boy and confess my undying love to him. I chose to write poetry. I had never written a word of it before, but somehow my brain found this space living inside of it that new exactly what to do. I found my way to a spiral notebook and penned my first poem. At the time, it seemed like my best piece of work, surely worthy of some kind of poetry award. To my dismay, my summertime romance that year came to an end not long after that incredible first date. Whether it was my poetry or not remains to be unseen, but it ignited something in me that would not stop.
As I look back at this first piece of work—the edges tattered, the paper aged and becoming frail—I still feel a sense of pride. It was (and still is) not worth publishing in a book or reading to a crowd of strangers, but it is a piece of my past that helped propel me forward with my writing. The pain and agony of one of my first loves inspired a series of poems about my feelings. When I was done and over him, I kept writing. When my teenage depression kicked in, my poetry became the only way that I could get my feelings out. I couldn’t talk to anyone about what I was going through. Writing poetry helped heal me. It comforted my soul. Writing , for me, wasn’t a hobby. It was the thing that kept me alive.
As I grew older and wiser (who knew he wouldn’t be THE one anyway?) the poetry continued off and on depending on what was happening in my life. Sometime in my twenties, the writing stopped. I attribute this to timing. I had just had my first son and was in a very turbulent marriage that ended in divorce. The stress of all of it pushed that creative magic in my mind into a deep corner, and covered it with lock and key. I could not write. No ideas would even come to me. I thought all was lost, until one day (now in my early forties) the door to my creative magic was opened once more. I’m not even sure how it happened or why it came back, but somehow these ideas started pouring out of whatever dungeon they had been living in and into the forefront of my mind. The thoughts would not stop and demanded to be put on paper. And so I listened and I put the thoughts on paper. But it wouldn’t be poetry this time, it would be a fictional story. More on that in next week’s post.
I have never shared a stitch of my own poetry with anyone other than my mom, a few friends, and of course, my first lust named Vince. But it is that romance and that date that started it all.
Book News: You’ll hear it here first!
Stay Tuned for some exciting news on my book launch! In my first official monthly newsletter, scheduled for September 1st, I’ll reveal my cover and share with you the official launch date here on Substack ahead of everywhere else. I’ll also include information about PRE-ORDERS!
Stay tuned for next week’s Saturday Musings where I will share more about me and my story. You can also find me on IG and Facebook where I share random photos and share progress towards my first book.
Until next time nightlies…
Xoxo,
Mica
What a beautiful story (and a beautiful poem!) — thank you for sharing! It’s so interesting to find similarities in our paths… I too started writing poetry as a teen, then gave up on my dream to become a writer for a few decades, and finally started writing at 40. 🥹
It's very interesting story Mica. Your first date and the memory behind it. Your story brings me back to my past. Thank you for sharing it