I fell in love with words when I was eight years old. I didn't know what a love affair it would be. How could I, I was eight. I just knew that the world of books and writing fascinated me. I remember sitting and contemplating the clouds and what they meant to a writer; how soft they looked, light and fluffy. I remember laying on a blanket looking up at those clouds with my notebook in one hand and pen in the other, wondering what it would be like to lay upon those clouds, and look down upon the earth.
I remember wondering what words really mean and how they looked in a sentence; how one sentence led to another and another until you had a whole paragraph or a poem. My poems were crude back then. I remember trying to do something new with Roses are Red at one point.
I never liked hearing about rules of writing. Natalie Goldberg's rules, which I talked about last Sunday, were the first writing rules that I have ever liked. Before those rules I always felt that the writing rules were only stifling, that they prevented the writer from letting loose. I know I allowed it to stop me from writing. Now writing seems, easy isn't the right word, much more natural. I can lay thoughts down on the paper without it feeling quite so uncomfortable. I always felt like I had to get it right before; that is what stopped me.
I always felt that if I didn't, or couldn't, get it right I shouldn't be writing. But that isn't what writing is about. Writing is about putting our thoughts down on paper. It is about putting our hearts out for others to see, not about getting it right. My heart says that writing is a form of love. As a writer I want to intimately share my world with others. I want to write words of fascinating pictures that will have them feeling into every word. That to me is the essence of writing, being able to take someone on a journey through your words and they see it, they get it.
It is also about digging in the dark, pulling out the roots and looking at them under a microscope, examining how they grew and if you could have done anything differently, would you have? All of those juicy dark places make for such wonderful fertilizer for your stories. They are what bring life to them. How could you ever want to change or throw away something that has given your words such life? I notice as I am writing this last part I can see how my words are starting to feel painful. My chest is tightening and the inner critic is beginning to squirm and starting to tell me that others don't want to hear this. I tell myself, I am beautiful and the words are fine. Keep writing. (Thank you Natalie)
I remember sitting at a table at school and writing a song, I remember lying on my bed and writing my poetry. I remember sitting at my piano and writing a song that I wrote for a dead man in a park who froze in front of the white house because he had no place to sleep. Those words pulled my heart out and opened it for everyone to see.
I remember writing about my daughter at six months and wondering what it would be like when she began to talk; wanting to hear her thoughts. I remember when she was two and wondering when she would stop. I remember thinking then writing, that my heart was breaking in two when I left my husband. I remember writing about my journey of discovery of my new world of two daughters and no father. I remember writing about forgiveness and love. I remember writing about writing and thinking I would never get it right.
I now write, just to write. I now write for me. I now write in hopes that someone will find a piece of truth within it for them, but if they don't, it is alright. Because I love to write, and will keep on writing no matter if it is for me or if it is for someone else; it is my heart after all, this art of writing.
Thank you for taking the time to read my words. If it touched you in anyway, please leave your own words below for I would love to read them.
Row80 Check in
I am feeling like everything is on track. I am tired, have a bit of a cold but all is well. I will give a full Check in on Sunday.
I am enjoying my journey with words.
Peace,
Morgan
Please visit other ROWers
here and encourage them on their writing journey.
.jpg)
.jpg)
