31 Days Observing
And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt. ~Sylvia Plath
When I decided to take part in this challenge, I had doubts. Lots of them. But, I felt I needed to attempt this. Had I read this quote above, I may have jumped in with more gusto!
Today, I am going to jump off the words of some famous people who have words of wisdom for writers and those of us who consider ourselves would be’s.
I have wanted to write since I was a child. I always pictured myself a writer. I dreamed of published novels and books with my name on them. I imagined the world as a writer. My first attempt at a story was when I was going into the fifth grade. It was a murder mystery. All 100 words of it. It was a serious work. I took blank paper and cut it into fourths. I did this for several sheets. I then stapled the middle of it. After all, you must have a book to write a book, right? I then took my trusty pencil and wrote a story. It was a compelling story of a couple. His name was John. Her’s was Sarah. Don’t ask me where I got those names, but I remember them clearly. The long and short (including the spoilers here…) was that they fell in love and John was murdered. Turns out Sarah was really a black widow spider. I had read somewhere that a black widow spider will kill it’s partner after mating. At that point in my naive life I thought that once you had an engagement ring you had finished mating and that was that…. So, I told the story that Sarah, the black widow spider, killed John and somehow when she turned into the spider her engagement ring stayed on her and that is how the spiders came to have the diamond shape on their undersides. I know, it should have made the New York Times list of best sellers. All it made it was a place inside my mother’s prayer-book. It stayed there for years.
For me, a page of good prose is where one hears the rain [and] the noise of battle. ~John Cheever
When I entered high school, I thought of different occupations. Teaching was always right up there as a possibility. Nursing, also was a strong contender, until I took chemistry and knew that I could not and would not understand the metric system and would end up terminating lives quickly. What lurked in the back of my mind and presented a challenge was to be a reporter. I fancied myself an investigative reporter. I could see me hunting down stories and being in danger. Writing and reporting them. This was a time when there was only a couple of women reporters. Yes, it was a dream. I ended up not going to college, marrying young and travelling the world with my hubby. I still had the wish to write, though.
We write to remember our nows later. ~Terri Guillemets
Words haunt me. Descriptions float in my mind at an alarming rate. I see the clouds and in the sky and think of descriptors for them. When I was in my thirties, I finally took steps to become a writer. I actually did a mail in course for writing. I joined a writing group. I went to conferences and workshops. I met some authors. I actually had several conversations with writers. It was an exciting time for me. I carried notebooks with me to write things down. I stayed up late, pecking on my manual typewriter and then typing away on my very first computer. It was a time filled with short stories and poetry and essays. I have a file of them. Some are not bad. I found I was always chasing that illusive phrase. That phrase that would turn heads and shake foundations. That phrase that would catch the attention of people. That phrase that would touch a heart and change a life.
To me, the greatest pleasure of writing is not what it’s about, but the inner music the words make. ~Truman Capote
Lives did change, mine changed. Life got interesting and little by little, I stopped writing for a season. I had to concentrate on reality and people and circumstances. It’s not that I stopped looking at clouds and trying to describe them, I just did not take the time to write the descriptions. Words still danced about my mind, and the jitterbug of words in my heart slowed down to a waltz, a long one, waiting for the time for them to be able to dance onto a page.
Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart. ~William Wordsworth
So, that brings me to the present time frame. A blog was started and once more words came to me. I have found this month, that all the dreams from my past have come alive again. No, not teaching as I am too much of a mother to actually be a professional teacher. I would never be a good teacher, I would want to help too much for anyone to learn something. No, I am too old to become a reporter, and realize now I am a big chicken and could never investigate anything, unless it is online and the lights are on. I still do not understand the metric system, and I have trouble with telling my left from right, so you definitely do not want me around any medical emergencies.
But, writing is alive again. I still want to change lives, and touch lives. I still have ideas for stories in my mind. I am excited that this month has given me a rebirth of a dream. I once had a good friend tell me that sometimes a dream has to die in order for it to come to life. It may not be the same dream, but it is stronger and better having died and put to the side.
So, thank you for stopping by today and for sharing with me in this challenge. I am done with this challenge and I am grateful for it, that is my observation today. DAF