What Libra Means to Me

Dear Reader,

I am a Libra. What does this mean? It means I was born between September 23 and October 23. Apparently, it means I am charismatic, gentle, good-looking (hey, I'm not the one who decides these things), kind, stylish, romantic, easy-going, and intuitive. That's what someone else has said. So, what does Libra mean to me as a writer? After all, this is a blog about reading and writing. The symbol of Libra is the scales. This seems simple. Some people see the scales as an example of exact balance, or possibly even trying to make sure good outweighs bad. I can see the lure of those explanations, but as a writer, Libra means something slightly different.

Yes, to me the scales mean balance, but not in the same sense as other people. Writers rely on a few aspects of a story. These aspect include character, setting, plot, voice (in terms of narration), dialogue, action, etc. To anybody who may not be familiar with the world of writing, you might think you need an exact balance of all of these things. You may think that you have to be equally as skilled in one as in all the others. I would like to take this moment to disillusion you. I am not very good at dialogue. My narration is actually pretty good until I try to incorporate too much dialogue. Most of the time I get my characters just right. My setting needs a lot of work. I can (and do) use word games and writing exercises to try and improve in my sub-par areas, but I can't just stop everything to work on improvements. If I did that, nothing would get done. So I have to find my own balance.

When I think of Libra, when I picture those scales in my mind, I almost always picture both scales level with each other. One of these scales, though, has more items in it than the other. That is how I see balance. I know I am not very good at dialogue, so I try to use it sparingly, making sure it doesn't interrupt the flow of narration that I concoct. In order for me to acheive true balance (not to be confused with exact balance, which is where each scale holds the same number as opposed to the same "weight"), I have to know how much of one area to weigh against how much of another. I have to master the scales, which is difficult to do. Nobody can tell me, as a writer, how much of what to put where without different pieces of my work. Nobody can be the master of my scales except for me.

Rereading that last line is actually a bit scary. That means that, as a writer, I have a lot of responsibility. This puts the burden of success on my shoulders alone. One of my biggest fears is that of failure, which is why it is so hard for me to finish (or sometimes even start) a writing project. It's hard for me to try. I understand that failure is part of the business. Stephen King nailed his rejection slips above his desk and amassed quite a few before breaking into the business. All I know for sure is this: my dialogue is shaky, but gets worse when I mix it too much with narration; characters, to me, are the most important part of a story; every time I think I've found my voice, I can't bring it above a whisper before it runs and hides again. How am I supposed to master my scales. The only way a Libra like me knows how: by being charismatic, stylish, easy-going, and intuitive. Now all I have to do is to just jump in the deep end. Thanks for listening. Until next time, Reader.

Speak freely. Write candidly. Read endlessly.

Yours,

James