Write on Wednesday-Why In the World Do You Come to the Page?

Frustration has been the name of the game this week.   Our computers at work are wonky, we have a new staff member in the office meaning there's all kinds of unusual verbal and social interaction, and then one of our senior staff members decided it would be fun for all of us to have instant messenger so we could IM each other within our huge (7 peeople on a good day) office.  I'm ashamed to say I spent at an hour creating my avatar...you see, I was trying to find this one icon of a fluffy white dog (see what I mean about wasting time?)

So I got home about 6:00, after fighting my way through rush hour traffic, and what's the first thing I feel compelled to do?

Write.

Wouldn't you think that after a frustrating day, a day when every accomplishment, every task was completed with much virtual hair pulling and screaming, wouldn't you think that after a day like that I'd crave nothing more than a big glass of wine, a huge box of chocolates, and my easy chair?

Why in the world would I come to the page after a day like that?

"We should write because writing is a powerful form of prayer and meditation, connecting us both to our own insight and to a higher and deeper level of inner guidance," says Julia Cameron, in The Right to Write.  "Writing is good for the soul."

While I don't necessarily think of writing as cathartic, I do believe it helps me make sense of my world and myself.  There are times when a striking truth about my life suddenly appears before me on the screen, complete and utterly honest, coming straight from my spirit through my fingers and onto the page.  For a writer, there is a great connection between the heart, the mind, and the pen.  The act of setting words on the page seems to open a door directly into my writer's soul, letting me in on the secrets that are stored there.

Perhaps that why writing is such a restorative act.  "Writing has so much to give, so much to teach, so many surprises," Anne Lamott writes in Bird by Bird.  "The actual act of writing turns out to be the best part.  It's like discovering that while you thought you needed the tea ceremony for the caffeine, what you really needed was the tea ceremony.  The act of writing turns out to be its own reward."

Indeed, there was a sense of relief, of reassurance, to come home, kick off my shoes, and curl up in my easy chair with my virtual pen and paper - my little laptop perched precariously on the chair's overstuffed arm.  I admit, there was wine involved too, but the comfort and relaxation which flooded my body had more to do with the words flowing from my fingertips than from the alcohol flowing past my lips. 

Writing replenishes my spirit, it rejuvenates my mind, it relaxes my emotions.

And that's why I come to the page.

How about you?  What brings you to the page, and why?

Write on Wednesday  is back!  This column once appeared regularly here at the Byline as a weekly look at the craft of writing in general and my own in particular.  Write on Wednesday  will appear each week throughout the summer, and this time you're invited to participate by creating your own blog post using the topic of the week's post as your prompt.  

You know the drill...leave a comment here with a link to your post.  I can't wait to see what you come up with.

Write on Wednesday-Signs From the Past

"And so our mothers and grandmothers have, more often than not anonymously, handed on the creative spark, the seed of the flower they themselves never hoped to see; or like a sealed letter they could not plainly read."  Alice Walker   Geneology has always fascinated me.  Although I've never taken the time to delve deeply into my family's history, I have reaped the benefits of research done my cousins and learned some surprising things about my ancestors.  Yes, those Kentucky settlers were mostly Scotch-Irishmen, but there were some German Jews who settled in Pennsylvania before the Revolution, and one of them was a lieutenant who crossed the Delaware with George Washington.  And my father has said his grandfather was the dance leader in the Armenia village where he lived. 

In her book, Writing Begins With the Breath, Laraine Herring talks about listening to the "silent voices" from our past that may be "whispering in our hearts," hoping to find their way onto the page. 

"Are you drawn to a culture or time period not your own?" she asks.  "Chances are it's because the stories of those places intrigue you.  How many stories are there in each generation you can trace?  Look to the stories that are unspoken to find the ones with energy." 

In my writing, I realize how often I'm drawn to tell stories about legacies - about the gifts, the impulses, the characteristics that pass from one generation to the next.  In both novellas I've written for NaNoWriMo, legacy is at the heart of the story and the theme.  In Dear Samantha, a dying woman leaves the story of her life in letters written to her unborn granddaughter.  In The Wedding Dress, one woman passes her wedding dress through four generations of women, each one learning something about themselves through the experiences of the others.

Is there something in my past that calls me to write about this topic?  Are there voices from ages ago working to send a message through me?

Joyce Carol Oates once spoke about "writing to heal one's ancestors."  As human beings, we are interconnected with so many others, through our flesh and blood, but also through basic human needs for love, comfort, beauty. Now, science tells us that human beings can trace their DNA back to one of only ten basic groups.  Writing can be a way to tell the stories of our ancestors, a way to rewrite those stories so they make sense, so they speak to other people in perhaps new and unexpected ways.

"Writing is about following signposts," Herring says.  "Close your eyes and open your ears and heart...who is whispering to you?"

How about you?  Are there stories you feel drawn to tell?  What stories from a distant past are whispering to you?

Novel Excerpt...and a Contest

...from The Wedding Dress Section One - Anna Grace Livingston, 1919 Anna always loved this time of day, this late afternoon hour just after supper with the sun settling in behind the pine trees, the length of the front porch finally cast in cool shadow. She would come outside after helping Mama wipe the dishes, pour pitchers of water over the huge ferns swinging gently from the rafters, and settle into the rocking chair, book in hand, ready to read until the the afternoon heat abated. But all the while Andrew had been in France, fighting in that awful war, Anna's restful afternoons on the porch were spoiled. She felt anxious sitting there, the long dirt road leading from town staring her in the face, the road that might bring an ominous stranger bearing the worst of all possible news.

She would glance nervously at the dusty road, squinting for a moment against the sun's glare. Her imagination ran wild with tales she'd heard of smartly clad soldiers in dress uniform, black armbands adorning their sleeves, soldiers that always came in pairs, knocking politely on your door, hat in hand, to deliver news that would shatter your life forever.

"There's no use in thinking about such awful things," she would firmly lecture herself. "I just have to believe with all my heart and soul that Andrew will come home safely." And, so it was on that day not six months ago, she had remained busy refilling her pitcher, pouring fresh water into each fern's dusty bed, while the sun eased itself lower into the evening sky - so busy that she almost didn't see the lonely figure trudging toward her, dressed in the unmistakable khaki colored puttee's that looked so odd on boys barely out of knickers and more accustomed to overalls. Catching sight of this stranger, Anna literally felt her heart sink, powerless to stop the pitcher as it slipped from her hand, shattering in a million shards of glass on the wooden floorboards. The seconds passed like hours, her gaze fixed on this solitary man coming ever nearer, until the first glimmer of recognition began to dawn. This lonely figure, thin and long legged, one arm swinging familiarly at his side, the other - wait, the other caught up in a sling!-but there, at least, definitely there - and yes, the shock of blond hair catching the last flicker of sunlight. This was no stranger, she realized. Impossible as it seemed, it was Andrew. He stopped abruptly when he caught sight of her slender body come flying off the porch, and he continued to stand stock still while she raced over the yard and down the road to meet him, heedless of any rules of grace or propriety, her own blonde hair coming loose from its pins and streaming in the breeze behind her. "My God in heaven!" Anna cried, throwing her arms around him, almost pulling back in surprise at the frailty of his body, aware that she could feel every rib as she pressed her own torso against him, and then pulling him even tighter into her chest, willing him to take strength and sustenance from her. Andrew’s one good arm enfolded her and he buried his face in the fragrant smell of her clean, sun warmed hair. Anna felt a deep shudder pass through him, and she pulled back, raising her eyes to meet his.

And then her heart sank once again. Staring off into the horizon beyond her were not the bright blue eyes of the boy she had loved and sent sailing off to war, determined to lead the victory charge for freedom. These eyes were empty and dim, filled with nothing at all like hope or pride.

They were the eyes of a stranger after all.Anna shook her head, trying to clear the memory of that moment from her mind. “Andrew will be just fine,” she told herself, as she had so many times since that day six months before, willing herself to believe, and in her fierce belief, make it so.She rose quickly, dropping the mending beside her on the cushioned seat of the swing, and strolled to the end of the porch once again.

Was that dust swirling up around horse’s hooves, she wondered. She craned her neck to see if she could catch a glimpse of her father’s dark hat.Smiling broadly, any disturbing thoughts erased from her mind, she grasped a handful of her long skirt and flew down the porch steps, in much the same way as she had on the day just dismissed from her memory. This time, she knew exactly what to expect from the man heading toward her.

Her father was coming, and with him, the material for her wedding dress.

Write Stuff has a contest for us NaNoWriMo writers - a nice diversion from the long hours spent noveling. We post an excerpt from our novel, and readers can vote for their favorites right here.

NaNoWriMo-Another Week Has Come and Gone

Each week, we NaNo writers receive a lively pep talk in our email boxes from a well known author. To get us revved up for week one, novelist Tom Robbins advised us to ditch any detailed plans we might have for the evolution of our novel, and let it evolve into being as we go, powered by instinct and a sense of adventure. "If you know the whole story in advance," he wrote, "your novel is probably dead before you begin it." Last week, mystery writer Sue Grafton helped us crawl out from under the blanket of self doubt that begins to creep in - along with fatigue and waning enthusiasm - during the second week of writing. "The important point," she advised, "is to keep up your momentum regardless of the fact that you might stumble now and then. Most people you know have never written a novel at all, let alone pounded one out in a jam-packed thirty days." Today, Sara Gruen talked about the many ways life intrudes, despite our best intentions. A sick dog and a broken foot have landed her far behind her projected daily word count. If you're behind, stop worrying about following the trajectory of your story in a straight line. "Jump around and write the fun bits," she writes, "like food fights, and disastrous sex, and escaping in-laws, and apes with unlimited credit!" Here's my mantra for this project, the personal pep talk I give myself when I'm trudging to the computer to work on my own daily word count: Don't think, just write. Don't think about going back and rewriting the part where Treesa and John meeting at the USO dance. Don't think about whether I should reveal if Andrew Sutton's death was suicide or an accident. Don't think about why Treesa's daughter is so against the idea of marriage. And above all, don't think about the laundry I should be doing, or the medical records I should be reviewing, or the bills I should be paying. Just write.

Write on Wednesday-Goody Bag

In the spirit of filling your Halloween bag with goodies, here are some of the writing related books, sites, and activities I've been devouring: ~Cafe Writing opened for business TODAY, so make sure you stop in. Cafe manager MissMeliss offers a menu of six creative options to suit any and all of your writing/artistic talents. The prompts are good for one month, so you may partake of any or all of them, posting your individual "entrees" on your own blog. I'm torn between trying option two, three, four or five...so many savory choices!

~I stumbled on Writer Advice while looking for their interview with Gayle Brandeis. Not only advice is featured here- there are writing contests, interviews with writers and artists, and products. Lots of goodies to explore. ~My new friend, Michele, chronicles her experiences as a freelance writer at Writing the Cyber Highway. Michele inspires me with her positive attitude, as well as her writing advice. ~In my own personal "writer development training course," (which I chronicle in my other blog) I'm currently working my way through "Courage & Craft: Writing Your Life Into Story," by Barbara Abercrombie. This book offers super exercises and advice for writing personal essays in a no-nonsense, approachable fashion. Barbara also co-hosts Writing Time, one of my favorite places to go on the internet for writing tips and inspiration. ~I admit it - I'm a writing book junkie, and lying in wait on my bookshelf are these tasty goodies...Fruitflesh, by Gayle Brandeis, Writing Begins With the Breath, by Laraine Herring, and Making a Literary Life, by Carolyn See. You now have lot of things to keep you busy and inspire you to Write On Wednesday. So, what are you waiting for?? How about you? Have you found any inspiring writing sites, or read any good writing books lately?