As I have immersed myself in this writing class I am taking, my craft has expanded. Ironically, instead of making excuses not to work on my current writing project, I eagerly find a way to make time for that very duty. What I am finding is a very raw and revealing painting of my life. What many don’t realize is that I am dabbling in fiction and non-fiction, but are leaning more toward sharing my journey of being a special needs mother, sprinkled with some experiences with my own parents along with a variety of other relatable content. It is my story.
The exercises that our facilitator has given us have really drawn out some fragrant memories and revealed that while some of the material might be intense and heavy, I have a tendency to lighten the mood by adding a splash of humor. The real chemistry is the relationship with all of the “characters” that float in and out of the story line. Since my characters are real individuals and only a handful are deceased, I am mindful that my personal take on an experience may not match what they encountered. The beauty is that they can write their own version. There are many truths to one event……it is all about perception.
I am not egotistical to believe that my story is so fantastic, the world must be exposed to it. On the contrary, this form of writing is almost like visiting a shrink except less expensive. The therapeutic release adds a dose of transparency that leaves me extremely vulnerable to those reading it. Today, as I shared a piece I wrote about the day my father died, I was struck by how raw that stills feels even though it has been 10 years…..and how the dynamic of relationships shifted with that void. It is eye-opening, brutal, but cathartic. While these writing prompts are simply pieces of the puzzle that will hopefully result in a book, they are an essence of who I was, who I am, and who I will eventually become.
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