Saturday, October 17, 2015

"A Writer Writes"

The title, "A Writer Writes" was a quote from a former Radford professor.  She also said, "A writer reads."  Both are as true as the wind blowing in Autumn.

I have taken a very long break in writing for several reasons. The main reason is that whenever I attempted to write in the last two years, it was always about my grieving process.  There is only so much to say on the matter that is even rational.  After a point, one begins to just murmur in a way that is unattractive and not at all productive.  Grieving is such an ugly past time; while one must get through it, one maybe should not bore others with it.  I will forgo this tedious process for the time being and write on writing.

I recently took on the challenge of writing a poem which honors a friend.  Tonight I read this poem to a room of guests, including the guest of honor.  I had a good two months, at least, to fashion this "ode" as  I call it.  I am a procrastinator by nature and while a task such as this looms overhead and creates great anxiety for me, I found myself writing the bulk of it over the last two days.  Granted, I did write a poem about a month ago, and I found it to be rather corny and impersonal.   I scrapped the original completely.  My initial plan was to reach out to others for inspiration and I found that, indeed, this was necessary.  I really needed to research, both by interviewing others and by reading some of the work of the subject.  I admit, after returning to Plan A, I felt like I was doing the natural thing.  Last night, as I wrapped up the finished product, I realized that I truly missed the process of writing, both poetry and blog entries.

I treat them differently.  For a blog entry, such as at this very moment, I type and if I hate it, I backspace.  For a poem, I have never, and never will, use a computer. It all must be hand written, struck, re-written, struck again, and so on.  It has been this way since college.  I was so sure I wanted to be a writer that I had disciplined myself to this ritual.  But I decided also that I was sure I wanted to eat so I did not become a writer.  My compromised that I would not seek a Master of Fine Arts, but rather, I would become a professional Speech-Language Pathologist and write in my spare time.  Any mother with a full time job knows that this is nearly an impossibility, at least while the kids are young.  You sacrifice.  You put dreams on hold.   You stop writing.  You stop painting.  You stop pretty much everything.  Not with any ill feelings, mind you.  No regrets.  Children are totally worth it.  They deserve your all-encompassing attention for a season or two.

Tonight, I realized that, while I already suspected it, I miss writing.  The poem was well received and our guest of honor insisted on putting it in his pocket and taking it with him.  This is the highest compliment of all; my writing preserved by someone I care for.  Stay tuned.  This challenge, which I desperately needed, may be just the thing to get me going again.  I guess time will tell.

Best,
Steph