My mom and dad read my blog everyday. They were my first followers and still my biggest supporters. But, moms and dads are supposed to support their daughters. Until recently I’d only told a handful of people about my writing. A few coworkers, a couple of friends here and there and my siblings. It’s hard enough to put yourself out there without having to be judged by those who might know you personally.
For me, a page of good prose is where one hears the rain [and] the noise of battle. ~John Cheever
If you’re a stranger my words might invoke an abstract feeling… like a painting. They might conjure up an image that is close to your heart. I could live with that. But, when the people I know read them I worried that these words might turn into little birds and take flight before I have a chance to catch them in my cage. Ah, these are irrational fears, I know. But, I wasn’t ready to let the world… MY WORLD know about my little secret, even when life turns out to be absolutely positively transparent. Now, that’s kinda funny, right?!
Last week I finally told a friend about a poem I wrote about her. Her reaction was authentic. Why have you kept this a secret? She demanded. I don’t know… It’s personal, I added sheepishly. I used to write too, she said, I really liked your poem. I had no idea you saw me that way. She was right. I’ve always felt that I see the world a little differently, a little squarely. Things come into focus in oddly beautiful ways to reveal something special about each person and situation. A color, a gesture, a sigh… all come together to put the biggest smile on my face and I can’t wait to write about it.
The act of putting pen to paper encourages pause for thought, this in turn makes us think more deeply about life, which helps us regain our equilibrium. ~Norbet Platt
I want to remember everything… everyone. I want to carefully bubble wrap each and every moment that touches me, awakens me and transports me so they don’t get lost in the daily shuffle. I want to protect every letter of every word I’ve ever written. I want to leave my fingerprints all over this thing called life.
When I was in 3rd grade I won 1st place for reciting The Daffodils by William Wordsworth in front of the whole school. I was mesmerized by the arrangement of words. I was in a trance the entire time I recited the words imagining myself in a field of daffodils. I remember it like it was yesterday. Some times I read a poem I’ve written and I cannot believe the words actually came out of me. It’s an outer body experience and I can instantly connect with the memory of its origin. It’s magic.
And, it is also the closest thing to love I’ve experienced in a long time. I’ve had many loves in my life but this the only one that came in pursuit of me. Words chase me. Ideas beseech me. When I’m writing, I’m at peace with everything. I’m slightly giddy with excitement when the right words pair up next to each other forming a perfect sentence. I read and reread them with immense satisfaction and totally consumed and wrapped up in their drama. These words are mine and they belong to me and me alone. They own me in a sense and I’m quite proud of them.
Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart. ~William Wordsworth
So, dolls, looks like my secret is out. Welcome all! Thank you for your support and I hope you like my style and keep coming back for more. 🙂