On Writing…


Sunday, November 11, I wrote about being mindful. My son Chuck is always using and discussing the word mindful, therefore, it is always to my forefront in my thoughts. Today, I thought I would discuss a little about writing, my writing. A favorite writer of mine Anne Lamott says,” No one cares if you continue to write, so you’d better care, because otherwise you are doomed”.

I was a closet writer, literally, my desk and computer was in a small closet I opened the door pulled out the chair, and there I was in what I thought to be my writing space. I wrote short stories. Once I had finished a story or what I thought was a finished story, I neatly filed it away in a file box on the shelf above me. Oh, I had been writing for years, since the age of five to be exact. The job of eliminating me of such a frivolous waste of time fell upon my mother. Every time she would find my big chief writing tablet and fat pencil, she threw it in the burning barrel. When we would go to see my Aunt Vina, she would send me home with a new supply, Aunt Vina encouraged my imagination. When I would stay with her during summers, I was to have a new story to read each day when she came home from work.

My love of reading through the years introduced me to all manner of authors and styles. Again, Aunt Vina encouraged my reading and writing. If it were not for her, I would not enjoy my retirement years, and then I began to dabble into the art of poetry. I spoke with my son Chuck who is a writer, explaining that I seem to have the ability to write poetry and I loved it. He expressed his belief that maybe this was the direction that I should go. Several published poetry books later I believe that all of my experiences in life found their way upon the blank page in the form of poetry had been depleted.

My next adventure was a book containing all of my artwork. When that book was completed and published, I begin the life story of my daughter Charlotte who passed away in 2010. When the grief began to spill over into my daily life where I could no longer control my emotions, I wrote. There were times when I thought that I may never write again, I thought of words but none would meld together to create any serious writing. Then, the book about Charlottes’ life was published. I still believed that my poetry and the well-house from where I gathered words might have dried up. It was then that I published a book of images of my four-legged friend Mason, finally I returned to my favorite writer Anne Lamott who said,” No one cares if you continue to write, so you’d better care, because otherwise you are doomed”.

After a few weeks of idleness, I outlined a family saga. A working title, Generations of heroes and assholes, their secrets and lies. I believe this undertaking of possibly a series of five books or one huge book will fill several years, which along with my blog and family should keep me busy. Along with that, a part of my day will be set aside for painting, reading books, researching, and enjoying the post of my favorite people, those who visit my blog.
Good Writing to All




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