Serenity… refocus – seek joy – thrive

what do you know?

This is not a philosophical question. Or, not entirely, anyway. And yes, as usual this rumination is really about me, not you (unless you want it to be).

MARGIE___KIDS3_HJ

No, it’s more the question I’ve been asking myself lately as I sit here looking at the blank screen day after day, realizing I feel I have nothing of worth to write about. “They” say to write what you know – and I wonder, yeah… but what is that? What do I know? Except that’s not really what is being asked, though, is it.

Everyone who has lived, loved, worked, thought knows something. Very few get through life completely untouched by some sort of knowledge – no matter how debatable that fact seems when you come across certain people.

What I am really asking myself is “How much are you willing/have been willing to share of what you know?” And the answer to that, if I am being honest, is often “very little”. There are people who I’ve known for years – friends! -  who know virtually nothing about me beyond what is in the present because other than cute little reminisces of this and that, I don’t talk about myself (even though it seems like that’s all I do, sometimes).

And why is that, I wonder? Is it that I fear being cast out of some community of people who’ve lived “normal” lives with storybook childhoods? I don’t think so. I’ve lived long enough, and listened and read enough to know that storybook’s are often incomplete. And my life, my world, compared to some has been downright boring. So, it’s not that.

I think it’s habit. Mental illness is much more understood these days, but as a child with a mentally ill mother I learned early not to talk about myself, to keep my own counsel, to protect and deflect, to seemingly answer questions and then immediately turn the focus back on the questioner. This is not hard to do, as most people love to talk about themselves, to be understood, and I love listening to other’s stories (most times). This trait would make me a pretty good chronicler of someone else’s life, but it makes for being a crappy witness to my own past.

So, what to do. My mother said something the other day – just one word, which I don’t think she realized she said and which I plan to write about later, that made me realize how much of my reticence is about appearances, about race, expectations and just plain old habit. And how important it is, for me as a growing writer, to get out the crowbar and start prying open the vaults – filled with little enough though they may be.

And yes, I know I’ve said before, in one way or another, that I was going to do this, to open up, but I think I had to get to a place of understanding, first, why everything was closed in the first place.

Now that I’m starting to do that, to understand the why’s of silence, I think I’m about ready to begin to tell tales.

[image at top is my mother, me and one of my brothers. Where my other brother was during this photo is a whole ‘nother story to tell.]

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...
  • Share/Bookmark

is | Topic: bellybutton bedazzlement, mostly remembered memories, repairing the past | Tags: ,

« conversation interrupted
ebook stuff »

This entry was posted on Sunday, February 28th, 2010 at 11:09 am and is filed under bellybutton bedazzlement, mostly remembered memories, repairing the past. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

6 Comments, Comment or Ping

  1. JJS

    5:00 pm on March 6th, 2010 1

    Yes.

    This is very familiar, on a lot of levels.

    What’s cool, in my experience, is that everything we write – including memoir/journal stuff we never share or publish – opens writing doors. As does writing about why we don’t tell the stories.

  2. Nanette

    10:30 pm on March 6th, 2010 2

    Ah, that’s good to know! Half the time I feel like I sound like I am doing therapy or something. Which I am, in a way, no doubt but hoping that it does lead to more.

    I think some of this – the familiar type stuff – cuts across lines, especially with children and their defense mechanisms.

  3. JJS

    10:47 am on March 7th, 2010 3

    Yes, big time.

    At one point, I bought and used Julia Cameron’s The Right to Write: at first I felt ridiculous even doing the exercises (‘this is writing, not therapy! touchy-feely-new-age-grumble-bitch-and-grumble’) but very quickly I realized the exercises were making me sweat, and they were forcing me through a lot of my own family/history/accrued garbage that was blocking up the pipes. It proved hugely useful in the end, and I’m glad she wrote it. I don’t know if it would be equally useful to you or not, but it might be worth a look.

    The emotional training we have is, I think, one of those for better and for worse things: its our greatest strength as creative people, and our greatest barrier. What I always try to focus on is doing whatever I need to do so that I am mediating the material (whether that’s fiction or memoir or some combination), rather than being mediated by it. It’s not always comfortable, that’s for sure – but no one told me it would be. : )

  4. Nanette

    8:50 am on March 8th, 2010 4

    Mediating the material rather than being mediated by it… I need to remember that phrase! It at least seems to solve so much.

    Thanks for the tip on the Cameron book. I need to make myself a bit uncomfortable, in that sense, I think. I looked the book up briefly and it seems like it might be good to read, although just reading the reviews and excerpts has been helpful in a way. The sort of giving yourself permission to write whatever, whenever thing. I started a journal type private blog a few days ago where I just dash off notes to myself, first drafts, ideas for posts or whatever, photos and all that and that’s the only thing it’s for. I have never been good at keeping real journals or diaries or anything, but this sort of creative thought pot winds up being one anyway, I think, lol. I just have to remember to stir the pot every once in a while and pull something out of it, sigh.

  5. cappy

    12:43 pm on January 6th, 2011 5

    you are a treasure…
    quite like an onion, layer upon layer…
    or is it layer under layer?
    which possibly is not really the same.
    pungent and powerful, full of good things
    even if a bit gripping and unsettling in its wake.

  6. Nanette

    7:03 am on January 7th, 2011 6

    Awww, cappy. I love that imagery, thank you so much – I just hope I can live up to it! Gives me something to strive for at any rate :)
    Nanette recently posted..week 1 – question 2- what is your favorite colorMy ComLuv Profile

Reply to “what do you know?”

CommentLuv Enabled