On Being a Writer Part 1

How I became a writer

I wrote a story in a high school creative writing class. I can’t even remember what it was about, but because of how it was received and commented on, it sparked something in me. Of course, at the time, I didn’t pursue writing because I got pregnant, married and had to work while raising a couple kids.

A few years later, I took a couple creative writing classes at Northern Essex Community College. I still have journals started from back then and a story, “Sarah,” which I wrote for the final exam from which the instructor said was the highest grade in the class. Again, I don’t remember much, but that class also started the journaling which many years later became morning pages after reading Julia Cameron’s “The Artists Way.”

Stories. We all have them about our lives. Much is mundane, but there are moments of inspiration and interesting happenings that deserve to be shared, talked about. There needs to be a mining for the gold that’s deep within all of us; the nuggets that make us unique, tell our individual stories. How do I do that? How do I get past all the crying and sadness to pull out those important nuggets?

Then I wonder how can I continue writing and be a painter at the same time? Too many times I shut the creative muses down – one or the other or both. Sometimes squashing one creative spark shuts them all down. And sometimes life itself gets in the way of creativity and pulls the rug out from under me leaving me a collapsed wreck.

So, after reading the first couple of journals from the late ‘70s, when I was in my 20s, I ask myself if I want to continue. I’ve been writing almost every morning all these years. Will it just make me more depressed? But there are many good points in amongst all the angst.

There are nuggets to be mined; lessons learned. I’ve had an interesting life because I’ve not towed the line and become part of a flock. Oh, I made attempts to join groups and such, even became a Christian for a number of years, which brought ridicule from family.

Now, I sit here trying to look back though the past to figure out why I am the way I am … and to stand strong in the woman I am.