Write, Write, Write
Author’s Blog
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write, write, write
Last night I choked in my sleep. It triggered an asthma attack, and I thought I was going to die.
Welcome to Write, Write, Write - my author’s blog.
I know everyone is probably like really? You choked and now welcome to my blog? But, yes. My experience last night reminded me time is too short to be spent wishing I was an author. It’s time to live it.
Don’t get me wrong I have spent most of my career as a writer. Since college, I worked as a journalist or in public relations. But that wasn’t my dream. My dream was to become a novelist. Since I was a little girl I loved the sound of the typewriter keys hitting the paper. It was music. I wanted to tell stories, but even more, I wanted to see my words on the page.
I achieved my goals. I have been published in newspapers and magazines. My first short story was published in 2000 and I thought I’m on my way. I have a rich, blessed life.
But something changed all of that for me. First, it was working in a job with a misogynist and racist boss whose criticism of my work was always personal.
“You call yourself a writer?” he would ask me if I happened to forget a comma. No matter what I wrote it was never good enough. He got in my head, and I let him. It was to the point I hated writing. I would get off work, go home and do anything, except write.
I hated writing. Fantasizing about other jobs was my go-too - maybe a life coach? Finally, I quit my job. I never wanted to work in corporate again. But what was I going to do. I had convinced myself writing was out. Life coach was starting to look really good.
But every time a story idea would pop in my head, I was drawn back to the keyboard. I had to write. I want to write. I want to be creative. So I got my home office together and I started working to get my dream started.
It wasn’t long after that my youngest daughter left for school and suddenly there was no one home but me and my husband. I got in bed one day and I couldn’t get back up. I laid under those covers lost, afraid, and feeling alone. I made myself go to the doctor and was diagnosed with depression. Anxiety and fear were taking a toll and in the meantime, my writing took a backseat once again.
I have three daughters who are truly my angels on earth and a husband whose unwavering love and support have never failed me. They encouraged me to go back to school and fight for my dream. I did and I earned my MFA in creative writing.
Going back to school reminded me I do have what it takes. I can do this. It was wonderful to be around other dreamers trying to create artistry with words. So this is me at 56 years old, catching my second wind. I am doing this and I am doing this for me.
I hope you will join me on my journey. This blog is my way of documenting my road, the ups and downs, as I work on finishing my novel and other projects. I love stories, and I hope that you dear reader will enjoy the stories I share with you.
So welcome. I will post a weekly blog and let you know how I am doing on this writing road. But I want you to join me on this journey. What are you trying to create for your life? Let’s talk about it. The best way to keep fighting for your dreams is to have the support of others. I am here for you.
I’m scared. Terrified, actually. This is my purpose. I don’t want to let myself down. But last night, I choked in my sleep, had an asthma attack, and thought I would die. I would be the meanest ghost in the world if I left this earth without doing what it is I was born to do.
Write, write, write. Life is too short for fears.
Trauma in Fiction
Is there too much trauma in fiction writing? So often, I have heard some readers say they don’t like to read fiction involving slavery or life after because it is always filled with trauma. Slavery happened a long time ago. I don’t want to hear any more about slavery. Why do writers keep writing about it?
These questions are what I pondered and still ask myself as I work on my novel. Set in a small southern town in Georgia, post-slavery, I examine what trauma looks like for a family where the mother and father were former slaves. The trauma they have suffered, especially the mother, is inflicted on her daughters and affects how they live their lives.
Even though we live in a very tumultuous time, we have therapists we can turn to for assistance. We can choose a spiritual path to find comfort with meditation and healing. We have the church if that is the path you choose. But imagine not having anyone you can turn to after being raped, tortured, and abused.
My main character Momma although strong was left emotionally devastated from her experience as a slave. She rains that devastation down on her youngest child. As I write, I am constantly contemplating how much emotional pain you can tuck inside before it spills out unto those you love.
Reviewing how emotional pain can be passed down generationally is something we should all consider. So many of our issues today stem from incidents of trauma that occurred generations ago, such as our fear of doctors (Tuskegee Incident). Books dealing with black trauma from the past help give us an appreciation for what our ancestors went through. Slaves are often dismissed as weak and docile as if they chose to be slaves.
I find this thinking aggravating. I think it is important for us to share our stories, especially now, regardless of the themes of slavery or trauma. Right now, some people are trying to erase our history and if writers walk away from our stories, are we justifying these people?
At the end of the day, our stories need to be told. Silence will only perpetuate the trauma, and I will not be a part of that. So I will keep writing.