I couldn't make sense of it--life, I mean, but mostly me, I mean. I did not know that this was typical for girls whose father's beat them with belts, as well as for girls whose father's smother them with kisses. I didn't know much at all. Aware of this, I took to reading. Bonus. It turns out a girl can hide from just about anything behind a real thick book. The more I read, the more I hungered for words arranged just so on the page. I began to write, at first just to feel the words coming out of me. I read somewhere that the first step to becoming a writer is to call oneself a writer. A trick of becoming what we say we are. So, I did. And, I do.
My relationship with writing has always been full of conflict--the need to be a writer up against fluctuating self-image, bad boy rebels on motorbikes, broken laser printers, long work days...you see where I'm headed with this. Right? Writing takes time. Time is hard to come by and so filled up. What amazes me is that the one reality that has, at times simultaneously, pushed me forward and held me back. The reality that began on October 3, 1995 with the birth of my son, Winston.
When Winston was an infant, I was a full-time college student. When he was in kindergarten, I was starting my first year teaching high school. Deserving the title of writer was tough in those days, but I could not relinquish it. Hence, the title of this blog. A poem scrawled on a napkin here. An old story edited there, revived. A running list of "ideas" waiting to be written into existence. But no matter how little I was actually writing at the time, if you asked me, I was a writer. Published? Not yet, I'd smile.
Truth is, I filled plenty of notebooks during that time, but was writing practically nothing compared to now. Now that Winston is eleven and I've been teaching for seven years, I find I have plenty of time for writing and that I take advantage of that time more and more. Truth is, I might have given up playing the writer long ago if I did not desire a world simmering with sense and meaning for my son. So, if you're thinking that the obligations of parenting outweigh the want to write, think again. Don't play that woman. Your children will be stronger for it.
2 comments:
Liz,
Enjoyed this. I think all writers--no matter their history, current life, lifestyle--struggle with it, with taking the time to do it, with feelings of guilt/selfishness at taking too much time to do it. It's difficult with a partner/spouse, but it's a whole new ball game with a child/children.
Your desire for "a world simmering with sense and meaning for my son" was particularly well-stated and lovely, but practical and good advice at the same time. I'd never really quite looked at it that way or heard of another writer looking at it that way.
I was having one of my, "Am I a good enough mother?" moments last night. And one of the things I was thinking about was how I need to get my shit together so that if I do nothing else right, or if K ever doubts my love and devotion for him, my delight in him, my hope for him, he can read my words and know.
Liked this a lot.
Christie
P.S.
Nate felt left out. He said, "You have another writer's group without me. You never told me."
I said, "You've been getting an e-mail every Sunday about the new writing prompt and directions for posting it. Now I have to read your e-mail to you too???"
"Oh. Really? Well, I'm gonna set up a blog tonight. I want to do it to. I need to write more," he says.
Funny guy.
Liz, I've had those moments too.
I like myself better now, though. I never thought I'd understand my mother saying, "I love getting older." Maybe when I hit 120 I'll say, "enough." But for right now I do love getting older and better and smarter. It is an adventure I'm loving, as you put it.
You did a great job, as always.
I liked this theme. A meaningful one for all of us balancing life on one side and self on the other. And yeah, I see it this way sometimes. I have to be totally on my ball for life and me to co-exist. right now, it feels that life takes away from me, it doesn't complement. A good reminder to "get my shit togther." Thanks Christina for the phrasing!
Carrie
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