Blog #3 The Wave That Almost Put Me Out

Last semester I took Creative Nonfiction. It proved to be the most difficult class I have yet to take. Granted it had been a tough year. Since I teach I view my life in semesters. So first semester from August to December, I lost a very dear friend, Brenda Kramer, to cancer. Brenda was a gifted nurse. She and I had been on several mission trips to La Ceiba, Honduras together. In May of last year, Brenda was diagnosed with ovarian cancer and was dead by December 2. The rapidity of her physical deterioration was faster than my emotions could keep up with. At that point, I was taking Creative Writing. Beyond a doubt, the writing for that class enabled me to escape into my imagination and find a harbor that gave temporary shelter from the storm of pain.
For some crazy reason I expected the Creative Nonfiction class I was in second semester to do the same thing for me. What was I thinking? In January, my mother, who had lived with me and my family informed me that she was moving back to Florida. She is eighty-two years old and still has an indomitable will. My mother has always believed that the world must bend to her will. Her departure and the Creative Nonfiction class I was in signaled a personal exploration that was like diving into the deep end of the ocean. At various points I knew that my writing was going to die. In many ways I had taken the stories of my mother’s and my life and combined them in both fiction and nonfiction writing. However, as I came across the hurt and the pain of our relationship, I could not write my way out of it. This was very serious since I had based my final project for the class on of all things, my mother. I began to question whether I wanted to write at all, and if so, what genre would I write in?
The only thing I could do was write and rewrite, which is what I did. You can imagine my elation when I went to register and saw the class, Beach Reading for Writers. I believe my head is just coming out from under the deep end of the ocean. So now back to the question of what genre do you want to write in? I am waiting for that to be revealed. In the meantime I will just keep writing.

Blog #2 My Three Most Important Writing Friends.

In thinking about my three most important writing friends, I am struck with how isolating writing really is. Writing is characterized by an essential dialectical tension: the need for solitude and the need for collaboration. With that in mind, my three most important writing friends are myself, my husband, and my professors and classmates at KSU. Because writing is such an autonomous vocation, I have come to the realization that I can be a friend to myself or a foe to myself.
It is important for me to be a friend to myself before I can write anything down. I must do the psychological and emotional work of fighting back self-defeating thoughts that attempt to persuade me that writing is not productive work. I have to set aside time so that I can engage in reading and self-reflection. It is imperative for me to have daily times of solitude in which I can create space in my mind so that conscious and unconscious thoughts can process and synthesize what occurred the previous day and integrate the ideas and thoughts that I read. Then I must allow myself to write. Through writing, I work on any number of ideas that manifest themselves in story form, ideas which I have to share with my husband.
Whether I am in the middle of processing a thought or I have just complete a piece, my husband, Greg, will listen to my sometimes lengthy pontifications or read my writing. He not only encourages me, but he will also point out any ideas or story problems that do not connect. Greg is a constant source of feedback; however, there are times when I have suspected that he looks at my writing through rose colored glasses, which is why I appreciate the professors and my classmates at KSU.
Even though the writing community in the MAPW classes is a construct created by the professors of each class, I have found the insights, discussions, and perspectives of my professors and classmates to be invaluable. I am thankful for the opportunity to share my writing with my classmates and in turn have them share their writing with me. It allows me to see that I am not alone in the writing process; moreover, I learn and become better through their praise of my work and constructive criticism. While I would love an intimate writing circle with whom I could sit with for hours in cafes and discuss the deepest aspects of writing, I am thankful for my husband and my professors and classmates.