Thursday, June 7, 2007

My mother taught me to write

I told her, when I went to see her for the last time last year, that this was the greatest thing she did for me, after giving birth to me. She gave me my first typewriter when I was about seven or eight. She showed me where to put my fingers on the keys and we used to talk about the stories I was thinking about. She always took them very seriously and would patiently help me work out the characters, plots and details. She proofread and made suggestions, corrected grammar and spelling. She was an excellent editor.

More from her blog:
Why does one write? I can imagine a host of answers but the one that fits me, and I am the only one I can answer for, is that I must. It's what I am; it's what I was created to do. It's what gets me out of bed in the morning and keeps me up at night. Many people have written on the art of writing, both good writers and bad. The consensus is that it is a need, a drive, an urge that must be obeyed or we are unhappy. If you are uncertain whether you are a writer, think how you would feel if you were to give up the notion forever. That should do it.

And if you are a writer, you probably know what it is you want to write. Or think you do. You have probably tried your hand at something or other by now, perhaps a poem or a diary, or perhaps you enjoy writing letters, a noble and dying art. However the Muse stings your hide, be assured that it is the real thing, for anything which whispers in your ear in the middle of the night, disturbs your dreams or otherwise coaxes your thoughts ever back to itself has undeniable reality. And if you ignore it, it will not go away, for it is your inner self rapping for attention and it will not be denied; if you would be happy in your life, obey it.

Trust your inner consciousness to know what it wants and to be right in that; you're just along for the ride. The still, small voice is that call to be yourself, to be what you were created to be and not to be afraid of that, though there be dragons lying in wait. We have been taught to be timid, to mistrust our instincts and ignore the inner voice as false and fantastical. Everyone has something to say and writing is the instrument both of self discovery and of the expression of that awakened self. All art is the expression of that elusive internal self; all creation is an act of bravery. Those who create are the life blood of the race. If you are a writer, count yourself among the blessed and get on with it.

And while everyone has something to say, and perhaps everyone does have a book in him or her, it does not mean to say that everyone is capable of writing that book. If you approach your writing from the outset with the idea that your goal is to become rich and famous à la Stephen King, you are extremely likely to be disappointed. On the other hand, if you have decided that you shouldn't write a word because you have no hope of becoming rich and famous, you are cheating yourself of one of the finer things that you can do with your life, which is to leave behind you a personal record, an archive, however well or poorly written. Never discount the value of leaving behind something real of yourself. Just think how valuable anything written by your great-grandmother is, even though it talked only of how she spent her afternoons. The danger is in thinking only in the short term, one of the many illnesses of Western civilization. No matter how long you inhabit the planet, your writing will live after you and be valued for as long as it exists, even if only by your descendants. You will become a revered ancestor.


and she has.

1 comment:

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