Hello, dear writing friends. I have missed blogging. I have been writing, journaling really, but mostly as a way to work through my grief for my dear husband and my brother, both having passed away last year. Just when I thought I was getting some perspective and could return to this blog, things seemed to collapse around me in a way that kept me from getting my footing. Both my refrigerator and dishwasher went out; my washing machine very nearly went up in flames. Then I was furloughed from a job due to Corona virus, and recently decided not to return to that job. And those are just the outward things.
I have moved my office back in to what had become my husband’s room when he could no longer navigate the stairs. The challenges that presented were more than I imagined. The memories in this room were sweet, but overpowering. John and I had a large, two-sided desk that I designed and he built. We sat facing each other, able to easily inquire what made the other laugh, what the other was sighing so loudly about, what to take out of the freezer for dinner. The books are back in the shelves, a makeshift desk sits facing the window (I could not use the other one: it brought back to many memories). I am adjusting, but slowly, in fits and starts.
As I was sitting here, watching a spring storm work its way over the mountain, waiting for a phone tech to take me off hold, I began reading the “Getting Ready” chapter in to Mary Oliver’s A Poetry Handbook. Likening writing to the love story Romeo and Juliet, she encourages her readers make appointments to our writing practice as we would to meet a lover (very loaded language for me in my grief!).
Appointments sounds so cold and disconnected, but it really isn’t. I have this friend, at least I think she is still a friend. We used to go to coffee or wine together. She was always a bit flaky, oftentimes cancelling at the last minute, leaving me sitting sadly at a two-top. This began to happen more and more. Once she got into a relationship, we just stopped trying to make it happen. Obviously, our relationship wasn’t important enough to her for her to put in the effort. I haven’t heard from her in months, except robotic requests to follow her blog or like her newest favorite podcast. She didn’t even send condolences when John passed.
I wonder, is this how my writing feels? Neglected. Hurt. Jilted. Like it doesn’t need to show up, since I’m not going to.
I have made a commitment to write every day. I have set the place and the time. I commit to you, dear writer, to blog once per week. I will try to do two things: tell you a story and give you a writing prompt. My hope is that when you are stuck, like I have been, you will find writing inspiration here.
Prompt: Let’s say writing is your lover. What three gifts would you bring to your lover? This can be physical things (like a computer, a pen and paper, a cup of coffee…) or something else (like a clear mind, an openness, an idea…). Going further: Describe each of those things and why they are gifts for your lover, Writing.
Happy writing… ~T
At Stacking Stones Writers, I seek to create a community of writers, a place you can go to find encouragement for your passion – writing. Please follow the Stacking Stones Writers blog to have easy access to all the tips, tools, and ideas shared here. Thank you!