Writers write. Okay, so I’m sitting here waiting for inspiration and it’s not coming. Does that mean I’m really not a writer? But I already knew that, didn’t I? I can’t plot my way out of a paper bag, my poems don’t rhyme and my diary/blog groans whenever I get near the keyboard. “Oh, no, not you again!” Sorry, Dell, I have something inside that wants to bleed all over your computer screen but it never comes out the way I want it to. I suspect all bloggers feel the same way from time to time. Pease tell me that’s a true statement of fact! Please tell me other bloggers are like me and wear out their back space and delete keys first.
I’m not fond of Stephen King’s horror genre books but he’s a
productive (and many would say a brilliant) writer and two of my favorite movies
are adaptations of his stories---The
Shawshank Redemption and Stand By Me---which
both started out as novellas in a collection of four novellas published
together and titled Different Seasons.
The following quote from the book is one of my favorites and it fits perfectly to
where I’m at in my life:
“The most important things are the hardest to say. They are
the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them -- words shrink
things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living
size when they're brought out. But it's more than that, isn't it? The most
important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like
landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make
revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny
way, not understanding what you've said at all, or why you thought it was so
important that you almost cried while you were saying it. That's the worst, I
think. When the secret stays locked within not for want of a tellar but for
want of an understanding ear.”
Where I’m at in my life. Where is that exactly? I’m an aging
woman with no children and a dead husband and no one to leave a legacy of
life-lessons learned. Well, Levi could out live me but his canine brain has
taught me more than I’ve taught him. Smile
and wiggle all over when humans approach, it makes them happy. Be sweet but persistent
and you’ll get more treats. Listen more than you talk, others need to be heard.
That last one is an important lesson to learn and maybe instead of trying
to write what seems so important in our heads we bloggers should just tell it
to a dog. They always seem to have an understanding ear. But what really
bothers me is ‘why.’ Why do I feel compelled to write even if I can’t do it the
way I want? Is it a sign that I’m preparing for the next stage of life (dare I
say death) that I want to sprinkle wisdom around like fairy dust and hope it
grows after I’m gone? Is it a sign of grandiose thinking to even believe I have
wisdom worth imparting to the world? I still have secrets to tell. Should I tell…or
take them to the grave? I know what Stephen King would say about my back story: “The
most important things to remember about back story are that (a) everyone has a
history and (b) most of it isn’t very interesting.” He’s one smart guy. Alien
abductions really were pretty common back in the 70s. That last part was a joke
although Mr. King would probably say if you have to tell someone “it’s a joke”
you need to rewrite it.
Yesterday I packed up the dog and we went on a little road
trip, south about an hour and half to where my two nieces live. One is out of
state and she invited me to use her cottage while she’s gone---it’s the same cottage
where I spent all my summers growing up. My other niece also lives on a lake near-by
and I invited myself over for a visit. She is one of those people who is
perpetually happy and upbeat. Even when she’s talking about something bad that
may have happened she has a way of giving it a humorous spin that gets everyone
laughing. Her husband has a great temperament, too. It’s like they’ve ridden
that same train so long you can’t tell them apart---a perfect match. My other niece
and her husband were both well-liked teachers who have a wide circle of
supportive friends and they are another perfect match. I would say I’m very
proud of my nieces but I didn’t have a hand in forming the wonderful women they’ve
become. So instead I say I am proud to call them family.
I have a real aversion to saying, “I’m proud of you” if I didn’t have a direct hand in helping someone reach benchmarks and accomplish goals. Quirky, I know. It’s a common phrase thrown all over the place. Instead, I try to say things like, “Be proud of yourself! It’s quite an accomplishment to….” I also have an aversion to saying, “I’m sorry for your loss.” The “loss” has a name! “I’m sorry you lost Frank or Nellie.” A loss is personal and only Hallmark should be using generic words at a time like that. And they should be a making card that reads, “Dear Niece, if I had a daughter I would be joyously happy if she had turned out just like you.”
Look! I’ve got my word quota in for today. I guess Stephen
King was right when he said, “Don’t wait for the muse.” In other words, just
start writing and let the words take you where you need to go. ©
“It always
comes down to just two choices. Get busy living, or get busy dying.”
Stephen
King, Different Seasons
