Blue Heron Visions: Chapter 18: Writing Life

This manuscript is both a memoir of sorts and a work of fiction. The stories and events included are based on my life experiences and memories but I have changed names, details, event sequences, and outcomes throughout the work.

Read Chapter 1 Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Links of Interest: www.750words.com
National Novel Writing Month

Chapter 18: Writing Life

Another January morning, another day of cold and snow with the added attraction of ice, something Elizabeth dreaded each winter even more since she fell and broke her ankle several years earlier. But Elizabeth arose, resolving to go outside despite her fears. Before her departure, though, she needed to complete what she called her “pages.”

Several years ago Elizabeth had read Julia Cameron's The Artist's Way. She had started writing what Cameron called “Morning Pages”—three pages of freewriting first thing in the morning. She started out well enough, doing her pages when she first got up in the morning as prescribed. But slowly she had changed the time when she wrote them. Now, she never knew from day to day when she would write her pages. She did make a concerted effort daily to write them, though. She had even discovered a web site online where she could type her pages (www.750words.com), which took much less time since she could type three pages faster than she could write them. And after the difficulties she had experienced with her arm and elbow, she found typing infinitely easier and less tiring than writing longhand.

For Elizabeth writing pages had turned into a kind of daily grumble and release session. She dumped all her feelings, worries, fears, and occasionally spiritual insights in her pages. She also would write about significant nighttime dreams and attempt to interpret their meanings. Since Elizabeth had started her monthly calls with Stacy, she had also begun using her morning pages as journal entries. Each month before her call with Stacy, she was required to send daily writings from four specific days. On those days particularly, Elizabeth focused more on spiritual concerns, thoughts, and happenings.

Elizabeth had been ambivalent about journal writing for many years. Her feelings stemmed from an experience with a woman in her church. This particular woman, Delia by name, had helped the pastor write a book and get it published. Thinking that Delia might have some encouraging words and direction about her own writing, Elizabeth had shown her a vignette she had written in honor of Easter and the resurrection of Christ. Elizabeth's friend Kendra had been extremely impressed by the writing and made copies to include in the Easter cards she was sending to friends and family. On the other hand, Delia had offered a completely different take. Her words to Elizabeth were far from encouraging: “You need to take up journaling if you ever expect to get published.” Elizabeth felt so embarrassed about showing her writing to Delia and ever thinking she could be published. But then anger set in and she decided she would never follow Delia's advice. From that day until just a few years ago when she started morning pages, she had not kept a daily journal. She had tried journaling at different junctures of her life but could her efforts were always halfhearted at best.

Ironically, Elizabeth had been awarded her Master's degree in English with an emphasis in writing. With that degree she had gotten a job as an adjunct professor and taught English grammar and writing composition at a local community college. Later, she had worked as a technical writer in Silicon Valley, writing software manuals, which was as far as you could get from journal writing or the initial creative vignette that had instigated the journal comment from Delia.

Because of her consistency with morning pages over the past four years, Elizabeth realized a benefit to writing daily beyond the dream of being published: she could go back in her history and discover what had been happening and how she was feeling. This benefit had been useful when she was talking with Stacy, her astrologer friend, about past dates that may have been particularly significant in relation to her birth chart. Elizabeth herself had also gone back and read entries for dates in the past that were occasionally mentioned in Stacy's astrology column, sometimes discovering the seed of a thought, an idea, or a feeling that had its inception in her past. Elizabeth had also used her journals to refresh her memories about certain events or nighttime dreams she had recorded. Despite of all her "journaling," Elizabeth still was not a published author, at least not officially.

Elizabeth had self-published a short story she had created for a group of friends. The fifteen-page story included some of her collages—those she had created for each of the six women featured in the story. Elizabeth had even given copies of the story to one of her friends before she had died of ovarian cancer a couple of years ago. The story was also featured on her own web site.

Elizabeth noticed that her writing life paralleled her art life in that she had spent time trying to find the niche that matched her writing style. She had won a prize during the last year of her Master's program for an essay she had written about Christina Rossetti's poem "Goblin Market." She had worked for several years as a technical editor and writer. Twelve years ago she ventured into poetry. Then came the short story she had written and her morning pages journey. Like her art exploration, she couldn't seem to find the writing space that fit comfortably and where she could settle down.

Elizabeth had read recently that voracious readers are actually frustrated authors. She had wondered if that was why she spent so much time reading. Perhaps, she was using her love of reading as a way to embrace and experience the words that she wasn't putting on paper herself. That frustration gave way to a challenge that presented itself as the National Novel Writing Month that happened online every November. Elizabeth had committed herself to and completed writing a novel of fifty thousand words starting on November 1 and finishing on November 30. Her novel was kind of a memoir, based on her own life experiences, but with fictional characters living her memories. Thematically, her manuscript attempted to demonstrate how a woman's thoughts had colored and created the life she was living and the journey the woman took from confusion to peaceful comprehension.

Although Elizabeth had completed what had seemed like a Herculean task in the time allotted, the manuscript sat in her computer, still inviting her perusal, massaging, and revising. She had not decided if she wanted to put her time and efforts into the task of revision. She had already discovered during the month-long process that writing a book was hard work that required diligence, discipline, and dedication. One result of her endeavor was a newly discovered appreciation for authors. But what she found most astonishing was that writing had been more of a struggle for her than creating collages had ever been. Often during that month, the search for words and phrases had been a strenuous, mind-bending exercise. Considering that the subject was something she knew so well (her own stories!), she found the difficulties she had experienced rather amazing.

Elizabeth had long held the dream of creating an inspirational book that blended her art with her words, whether they be in the form of vignettes, personal stories, or poems. But what that book would look like baffled Elizabeth, and, of course, she wondered if anyone would even care about a book like that. (Elizabeth realized that her last thought always stifled the creativity of any project, written or artistic.) A book that blended both art and writing would actually fit the tag line she had created for her business: "Collaging the alchemy of words and images." She fantasized about being able to make her writing a collage of words. "Now that would be something interesting and different and maybe even magical," Elizabeth thought.

Elizabeth looked up at the clock and realized that she had been thinking for almost an hour and still had a few more words to write to finish her morning pages for the day. She brought her attention back to the computer screen and quickly typed the last hundred words. Finally finished, she pushed her chair away from her desk. Now, she could get ready to brave the cold, snow, and ice awaiting just outside her door and begin another day of looking for the elusive magic of life.