I am Irina. Not enough said though. Irina Maria Tracy. Writer. Published writer. No matter how hard I try I find it hard to define myself. At least in words. I can define characters, situations, even create a fictional world from A to Z but still, I can’t define myself. Which makes me wonder if us, the authors, tend to lose ourselves while we write our stories.
Maybe in order to define a completely new world, with new people and new rules, one doesn’t just tend to lose themselves but they have to do so. Maybe if they don’t do so, they can’t fill themselves with all the new concepts and feelings discovered while writing the stories. It is somehow logical and even justified to put ourselves aside when we write a novel and free the space we need for our characters. It is, ultimately, the way authors belong to their readers just like the books they write. So with that being said, I find it hard to fill the “about you” boxes that are the first thing required to fill on new online profiles I create, regardless the site I am planning to attend. It is like I am supposed not just to know myself, but to know myself so good, that I can actually resume my existence and features in a tiny little box with maybe 200 signs available to use even if some sites offer as little as 50 of those. Scary. At least for me. How much of our own existence do we actually dedicate to our characters, except the actual time spent writing, of course? Probably a lot more than we actually are aware of. In one of my books, I had a challenged character, Christine, who kept me awake many nights trying to figure out what’s in her head. What does she want me to put on paper about her and what is the message she expects me to deliver to my readers through her character? I know, sounds a little paranoid to think of a character this way, like it is somehow possessing you and hunting your peace at night but I tend to do that many times. Well, eventually I finished the book which can now be found on Amazon under the title “Adverbs of love”, and slept around 48 hours, with some breaks in which I needed food…I am only human after all. After several days, I started thinking if the situation is not maybe a little backwards than my way of seeing it. What if, under the illusion of losing ourselves in the pages of our books, we are actually finding our true inner spirit with each character we create? Maybe, it seems like all our characters are more important than our own life but actually they are all just a way to explore our own existence and all of them define us in one way or another, which would make us, the authors around the world, the most defined people on Earth.
So, under this logic I discovered while I was writing this introductory text: Hello, I am Irina and I am a writer. (Too much like the Alcoholics Anonymous intro formula? Well, there only difference between writers and alcoholics is that writers don’t really care about being treated but that opens a new possible essay that doesn’t fit in the introductory text.)