Why do I write?
I write because it feels right. To write. To touch and be touched. To return to the past and understand from where I came; to possibly see where I am going. To settle and conquer my mind. To conquer and divide the combative world around me. To learn and to grow. To grow with words and explain the inexplicable even if I’m the only one who can understand it.
Frances is a strong motivator. An impressionable and very close friend from childhood, we agreed long into our adult years if our story hadn’t been told before one of us died, the survivor had to do it. That’s me now. I’m working on the story, a biographical memoir titled A Life in the Years of Her Mind.
It’s taking longer than I planned—or hoped—but I’m steady at it.
Rarely does the inexorable presence of a muse overpower my mind and passionately pour out 20 pages. When it does I let it plunder—its’ ideas, its’ energy, its’ ache—like a torrid love affair; hot and heavy, passionate and consuming. I don’t choose when to tangle those sheets, desire chooses me. When indulgence satiates I’m left with a beautiful lovechild of prose. I wish it aroused me more often.
I accept it’s fleeting. Fran’s history is confusing; her life overflowed with entwined complications. Trying to make sense of it takes patience. I’ve written about it in fits and starts for decades. Trusting the process is tricky; uncertainties creep around like spiders under the basement stair. Am I good enough? Will anyone read it? How will anyone find my blogs? That’s part of the process. Like life, self-doubt ebbs and flows. At 53 I’m learning to work with the tide.
I’m disciplining myself to write on command, to condense my brain’s shopping mall of constant chatter into a boutique of eloquent prose. Verbal debauchery is harmless unless it reduces the likelihood you’ll return for more. Forgive when grammatical conflict offends, I don’t adhere to the MLA or other formal guides. Drop me a comment and I’ll edit as needed.
Regardless of scholarly styles, writing feels right—to ask and understand why we’re all here.