Some of my most meaningful writings have happened at times of crisis when the words rushed out, blood from a sliced artery, unchecked and raw. You most likely will never see those moments here. I remember one such journal that I tied and wrapped and hid behind a wallboard as I poured out my innermost pain. No one has seen it in person and I sure wouldn't deliver it up to the Internet. But I mention it because those writings are as formative as the dancing tales and family memoirs I have told.
A strong writer plays in the mud puddles of life. At times, I have giggled as I played. Other times I have been highly annoyed that the chapter I was writing was so messy and deeply soiled. But until I learned to let the writing flow unchecked, my voice didn't emerge. I can go back and look at earlier writings and flinch at both those which are painfully authentic and those which were hiding darker truths, sugar-coated yet somehow flat.
My goal is for Pottermom's Plume to deliver my authentic voice, whatever it is at any given time. I will re-script earlier writings to freshly share and write new to give voice to the here and now. My topics will include facing unemployment and the struggle it has been as I sit at my laptop daily to stay abreast of my field and hope someone will recognize my talents.
I will explore those things which have formed my life--carrying and raising three different but wonderful children, now engaged in creating another generation; parenting furry children through all their stages and now, in my in-home senior canine care center; enticing nature to come in closer so I can appreciate its essence and offered miracles; and yes, the occasional rant on life through my eyes and even what I hope might be some philosophies by which others can benefit.I hope you will read and comment. We need to engage in conversations so we know we are not alone, know our voices are not like trees falling in the forest. If I touch something you think will help others, please share. I want them to know they are not alone. I know how important that is.
This practice of writing to establish a record of events, a timeline, clarity or catharsis, is one we share. I think of it as "my life in a box": the nearly four dozen volumes of my Journal that reside in a covered plastic tote in a dark closet near the back door. In case of fire, it's the only non-human entity in my home that absolutely must be saved.
ReplyDelete-- Or so it used to be. Now, thanks to several hundred hours of scanning and reliable cloud storage, only its tactile qualities would be lost. Still, it is unutterably precious to me.
I haven't accomplished anything of enduring consequence in my life. Like most mothers, I've invested (and continue to invest) enormous energy in my children. When I see them doing work they love and making their way as men of good character, I absorb some of their success, and am satisfied. But I do...I still do have a voice that is uniquely mine. Through the early, self-involved years, the turmoil and elation of finding love and bringing up children, the aging and passing of parents, and the onset of my own post-middle age, my voice has changed. Nevertheless, all those thousands of handwritten words constitute and summarize "me". And for whatever they are worth, I am intent on keeping them available for my eventual descendants and anyone else who might want to hear an authentic voice from this era.
What mutes my grand vision of posthumous glory is the realization that, now, almost everybody fancies themselves a writer. The internet groans under the proliferation of memoirs, poems, and commentary of all kinds. That might be cause for rejoicing except that a significant percentage of what I read online is sub-literate, and it's benumbing to contemplate my chances of ever being heard.
This has become too digressive…I do want to congratulate you, my friend, on sustaining and so constructively sharing your own creative -- and highly literate -- voice. I'll recommend your blogs on Google, and take pleasure in watching your readership grow!