On A Personal Note

Tonight is the last night of summer writing class and I am already feeling the loss of my blogging partners. So, I have decided that I will continue to post. I feel the need to develop my technique and skills in order to attain my goal of writing young adult literature, so hang around. Feel free to blog back your own responses and gentle criticism. 

A few months ago I came across this amazingly interesting book on writing at the public library called The Writer's Idea Book by Jack Heffron. I liked this book so much that I ordered my own copy from Amazon. I will be using the prompts (there are more than 400 from which to choose!) from that book as inspiration for my writing posts. I hope to selectively work my way through the four parts of this book. (I am definitely an ambitious, type-A personality.)

Today I have elected to choose the following prompt:

"Celebrate your creative self, the writer inside you. Write about how writing is an important part of your life. Write about the pleasure it brings. Write about your gratitude in possessing such a gift" (p. 10).

My response:

Speaking has always gotten me into trouble. In my early childhood years I often got into trouble for talking too loudly. I remember one time the school bus driver made me get off the bus because I was screaming (so SHE said). I thought I was just whispering. Later in life, I got into trouble because of the way I said things. I was often accused of being sassy and sarcastic, two traits I have perfected quite well, actually. I am still getting in trouble when I open my mouth. Thoughts fly out faster than I am able to stop them, and sometimes the thoughts are not all that affirming. So I can totally understand why I prefer writing. With pen and paper (or keyboard and fingers), I am able to edit my thoughts and  feelings. My passion can be constrained so that I offend as few as possible socially. 

Wait, how messed up is that? While it's good to be able to edit out some of the things that piss people off (and there is a place for that kind of writing), that's not really what makes me happy about writing. What gives me joy is being able to express exactly how I feel, without regard to someone else's feelings. Poetry has been the venue I typically choose to reveal my soul. There I can make unusual connections, give life to a memory, expose my fears and dreams. There I am really free --  to be thankful, to laugh.  The collaborative "Kitchen Poem" my daughter and I created over a series of weeks is a lighthearted example:

          'Tis not for lack of lamb chop love
          I forsook the savory morsels
          but fed, instead, on soup and bread
          and other succulent courses.  
          We wined and dined and languored long
          feasting on our friendship
          'till came the dawn and we were gone;
          fellowship's tryst had ended.
                              Copyright 2006

There are, moreover, few things as affirming as crafting a sentence so startling that it takes away a person's breath. I am an avid reader and delight in finding such sentences nestled between inked paragraphs. The thought of creating such tantalizing sentences myself makes my soul sing (pretty good alliteration/consonance, no?). I am in love with words. They don't frighten me in the least. They are to the mind what chocolate is to the taste buds. I am grateful that I am  able to and that I desire to create lush impressions of beauty in the midst of inanimate letters.