To all the women I’ve known and have yet to know who are struggling to see themselves as the superhero that you are, this one’s for you.
These are the words I intend to put before the opening pages of Netzii’s story.
Huh? What? “What’s Netzii’s story all about?” You ask. Silly Billy, I’m not going to give away all of my secrets, partly because I’m not done with the book, thus, I haven’t created a book description. But, more importantly, to build anticipation for something—a book, film, video game, etc—you must tease the public just as a good lover teases their… well, um, lover—plaything? Boytoy? Papi? Mami? Lady of the night? You decide your nouns. Nevertheless, while I won’t give away a rough pitch of the plot, I will—have—summed up Netzi’s emotional struggle in my last post.
Here’s a refresher:
Netzii, a brilliant but self-loathing middle-class 30-year-old Mexican-American, struggles to see herself as the superhero that she is.
Netzii’s hold on me
In my previous post, I said I can’t wait for you guys to meet my two upcoming characters: Sanse and Netzii.
Huh? What? “What’s Sanse’s story all about?” You ask. Oh, for the love of—
Refresher:
Sanse is a toxic and lower-class 22-year-old Mexican-American desperate to get his shit together by any means necessary.
When I started Sanse’s story, I thought it would be one of the most difficult stories I’d write in my lifetime. Why? Well, Jennifer March Soloway, a literary agent, says that the best stories out there usually share an emotional truth about the author. In her own words:
I find the most compelling stories often explore emotional truths an author has personally experienced. Maybe not the specific events or drama but the feelings. Write your emotional truth. Create intimacy with the reader. Invite them inside.
I wrote the hell out of my emotional truth in Sanse’s story, who perfectly depicted my toxic and powerful mindset when I was his age. I thought that by returning to that mentality, to that horrible person I was, I’d be left depleted every time I wrote his story.
Surprisingly, I wasn’t.
Why?
I’ve done my shadow work. I’ve conquered my demons—most, I can always be better. I’m at a place where my past does not intrude on the beauty of the present—again, most of the time, however, the past that does intrude now relates to Netzii’s struggle. Nevertheless, as for Sanse’s struggle, I can confidently quote Edna Mode and say, “I don’t look back, darling, it distracts from the now.”
Writing Sanse’s story had no emotional hold on me.
Netzii, however… Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, and all of his carpenter friends, her story is the most difficult book I’ve written so far.
Netzii is us. All of us
Netzii is my female friends.
The fictional female characters that have broken my heart like Iris von Everec from The Witcher 3’s Hearts of Stone.
The strangers I’ve met in 222 place.
My feminine side.
My sister.
A love of mine that never blossomed.
Netzii is every woman and any woman suppressed, abused, and neglected in any way possible. She’s the superhero in every woman held hostage in her own heart. She’s the independent, free, and powerful spirit unafraid to use her voice and forge her own road.
God, I’m getting so emotional just thinking about her. About everyone. It’s just… it breaks my heart to see the Netzii’s in my life suppressed. “More so than men?” You ask. Yes. Why? Because I’ve been the suppressor.
How do you do it? Your motivation for life, to write, to keep going, how do you do it?
This was a question a friend asked me once. At the time, I said that life was short and I had no intention of ever wasting my life again. That’s true… somewhat. There’s a deeper answer.
I recently caught up with an old friend who’s going through a major metamorphosis in her life: the super-long old relationship she was in ended.
My friend when the relationship ended:
I was—am—so happy for her. I told her that it finally felt like I was getting to know her and that before this day, I always felt like there was a distance between us—a distance caused by the relationship she was in. I’m editing our conversation, but she said that before she entered that relationship, she was so independent, so strong—what with going on bike rides all over the city all on her own with no fear.
Those words triggered my past. My twenty-two-year-old self who suppressed a woman in my life who was just as independent and as strong as my friend before she entered a relationship with me.
I took away her power.
I took away her independence.
So, when that relationship ended in the Summer when I was 22, the driving force that made me the man I am today—the man with the unquenchable hunger to live, to write, to keep going—was the vow to do better in life. To be better. To never ever deprive anyone of their independence and power.
That’s my drive.
That’s how I do it.
Power
I have the power to destroy. To suppress.
I also have the power to create. To uplift.
And, boy, oh, boy, I sure love uplifting the fuck out of people. But... uplifting can only do so much. I can control my life—my story—however, I can only influence the stories of others. If I could control people’s stories, I’d be giving away the power within like Oprah gave away cars to her audience.
YOU get your power! YOU get your power! EVERYONE gets their power!
I can’t do that, though. I can’t control your story.
Which leads me back to…
Sanse and Netzii
Sanse is me and I am Sanse.
Netzii isn’t.
Sure, Netzii represents a part of me but she’s also all the people I listed earlier: my female friend rediscovering her power, another friend still held hostage in a suppressive relationship, the tragic Iris von Everec from The Witcher, the strangers I’ve met in 222 place, my sister, and… a love of mine that never blossomed.
I can’t control Netzii’s story, I can only influence it.
And ya'll.
YA’LL.
I’m approaching a part of Netzii’s story I don’t want to write. A part that matches the tragic finale of Iris von Everec’s story, or the lowest point of Marianne’s story in Normal People, a part that will break the last ounce of strength she’s barely been able to hang on to.
God. I don’t want to write it. I don’t want Netzii to go through that pain but, again… I can’t control her story.
I can’t save her (she don’t wanna be saved)
J. Cole appreciating that No Role Modelz reference like:
All I can do is uplift. I can lend a helping hand and hope and wait for her to take it when she’s ready.
She’ll get through it.
I know she can.
Final words
Why am I sharing so much about Netzii’s struggle? Because I need to. Because her story is the most difficult book I’ve written so far that hurts my soul and depletes my energy anytime she’s hurt, or, better yet, anytime she hurts herself… which is so fucking often because her self-worth—God, her fucking self worth—is so low!
Her thoughts are toxic.
Her dreams, forever a dream.
Goals, unattainable.
True love, undeserved.
This is what she believes. This is what she’s manifested. But Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, and all of his carpenter friends, she deserves it! She deserves the world! Ugh, I’m getting too emotional so I’ll get back to the main point: Why am I sharing her struggle?
Simple, it’s because I’m an idealist. Because I care. Because I want people to be the best and happiest version of themselves possible. It’s because Netzii represents all the women I’ve known and have yet to know who are struggling to see themselves as the superhero that you are.
I see it.
In time, I know you will too.
All the men reading this be like:
Me:
You:
Me:
Kidding! I’m kidding!
Don’t worry, you beautiful knights and kings, your story—represented by Sanse—will come soon, probably sooner than Netzii’s. And when it does and it’s sell, sell, sell time, I’ll talk about it like there’s no tomorrow.
With that said, if I had to sum up Sanse and Netzii’s emotional story as concisely as possible, I’d say that Sanse’s battle is getting in touch with his feminine side: his kindness, empathy, and open-mindedness. Netzii’s is getting in touch with her masculine side: her strength, independence, and confidence.
Final, FINAL words, for realsies
I’m glad I wrote this.
I needed to get it out of my system, you know? All this energy and emotions I’ve been harboring for Netzii—for all the women I’ve known and have yet to know. I needed to put it out there. I needed to talk about it. I did and I feel happier. Lighter.
So, to all of ya’ll who’ve taken the time to read this far, thank you for listening.
It’s easy to be a realist in this world, to accept things the way they are and settle for something less than you deserve. To be an idealist, however, especially when you’ve faced the cruel realities of this world, takes a great deal of courage. Find that courage. And keep that flame a ‘burnin’, my friend.
— Yaboii