by Theresa Garee | Jul 10, 2020 | Blog
“Writing is not just a process of creation. It is also a process of self-discovery.”—Cristina Istrati
Self-discovery draws many writers to the page. We don’t know what we think or feel or even remember until we put pen to paper. Writing answers questions we didn’t even know we had. Some of us lean into this hard.
While I’d always dreamed of being published and had early success writing feature articles in high profile magazines, these finished products didn’t interest me as much as the writing process. As a result, my writing sometimes made it seem as if I didn’t care about the reader.
What about the reader?
When she teaches writing practice, my mentor, Natalie Goldberg, rarely talks directly about audience. It’s not that she doesn’t value her readers. She aims to dive to the bottom of the mind. If a writer goes deep enough, uncovering their own truths, she suggests they will also unearth universal truths—truths that will interest, entertain, and encourage readers.
I had to put that out of my mind while I wrote Depression Hates a Moving Target lest I be so paralyzed I couldn’t write a word. I had to set my white plastic digital timer, go for ten minutes, spill purple ink onto the page.
But as I wrote, my mind returned again and again to a friend I’ve had since childhood. She too struggles with depression, exercise, weight, and self-esteem.
I could see her face.
I asked what she might want to know. How could I explain running to her? What would she wonder about form and shoes and fear? Was there something about anxiety I could share that might help her? Did I know something she might need to know?
The vague notion of writing for an “audience” had left me cold. But imagining an actual person helped me focus. It made me care. I had to write for a living, breathing loved one with a face and a name and a family history. I wrote to her.
As it turned out, she wasn’t the only one who wanted to know.
For more wisdom from authors like Cristina Istrati, please check out You Should Be Writing, the new writing journal from Mango Publishing by Brenda Knight and Nita Sweeney.
by Theresa Garee | Jun 29, 2020 | Blog
American novelist Alice Walker reminds us:
“A writer, to be connected to the world,
should have a circle that cares about the world.
And out of that would come the writing.”
In rural Ohio where I grew up, our entire circle was white. Some people had freckles or olive skin, but they all had one thing in common: they were Caucasian.
My parents prided themselves on open-mindedness, in part because they held opposing political views on nearly everything. It was not uncommon for passersby to see the signs of rival candidates staked in our front yard.
Mom’s to the left and Dad’s to the right.
Of course, both candidates were male and white.
As I grew older, my circle widened. The 4-H band members, college floor-mates, law school club members, and colleagues at a variety of jobs I held didn’t look, sound, or act like me. I met and learned from people of different races, nationalities, sexual orientations, and creeds.
An Indonesian Muslim taught me to use chopsticks in the dorm cafeteria and told me of how proud she was to be the first woman in her family to leave the country and go to college. I typed papers for a young black man who went on to become a judge. My dorm sisters and I listened to our young Palestinian friend weep when her cousin died during an international crisis.
I made friends across borders, colors, denominations. My circle grew broad and bright.
Recently, I’m reexamining my circle.
Is it big enough, colorful enough, open-minded enough? Have I surrounded myself with a circle that cares about the world? As Walker explains, the voices I hear regularly will bleed into my writing. I want to choose with care.
What does your circle look like? Does it care about the world?
For more wisdom from authors like Alice Walker, please check out You Should Be Writing, the new writing journal from Mango Publishing by Brenda Knight and Nita Sweeney.
by Theresa Garee | Jun 19, 2020 | Blog
Exhale with Words
In meditation, we follow the breath in and out. We track body sensations, thoughts, and the movement of the mind. Meditation wakes us up to our lives. It offers a way to see the world in a clear, neutral way.
When we write, we breathe in sensory details, digest them, and exhale them in whatever way we choose to best express ourselves.
Poet and political activist Muriel Rukeyser invites us to “Breathe in experience, breathe out poetry.” Her outbreath was the poem.
I exhale creative nonfiction, these blog posts, and book marketing pitches. My friend Ray breathes out horror stories while Lisa crafts quirky mysteries and essays.
Even writers who “make stuff up” ground the worlds they build in a reality they have experienced. If they didn’t, no one could understand their work. This is why we have metaphors and similes. Things are other things and they are like other things. We pay attention, sit and walk and listen to the world around us. Grounded in the Earth’s gravitational force, we exhale our lives into form.
For more wisdom from authors like Muriel Rukeyser, please check out You Should Be Writing, the new writing journal from Mango Publishing by Brenda Knight and Nita Sweeney.
by Theresa Garee | Jun 12, 2020 | Blog
Your Words are Your Wings
As writers, we often feel responsible for speaking out, speaking up. In times of strife, (pandemic, revolution, both) silence signals complicity. Whether it’s a letter to the editor of a local newspaper or a book that hits the New York Times best-seller list, our words can change the world.
But our writing doesn’t just change the capital “W” world. Writing changes the lower case “w” world as well—our own world and the world of the people nearest to us. Writing can change our own attitudes and beliefs, how we think and what we feel.
For centuries, deep thinkers (and deep feelers) have put pen to paper to uncover their longings, test their theories, and prove the points they knew were true. When ideas are set forth in black and white (or brown and olive) on the blank page, they transform. We see these thoughts clearly and can ascertain whether our theories have value or should be discarded. Writing guides us to our truth.
Nigerian poet Jenim Dibie, author of The Calligraphy of God, explains:
“Silence is a cage. These words are my wings.”
She urges us to break free from whatever cage might trap us.
Take up your pen.
Spread your wings.
Fly.
For more wisdom from authors like Jenim Dibie, please check out You Should Be Writing, the new writing journal from Mango Publishing by Brenda Knight and Nita Sweeney.
