Artistry With Words

Let’s go way back, to 1967, back to Seattle, Washington, back to my college days at Seattle University.  Frank, my best buddy, and I were enrolled in a Sociology class.  Our Quarter project was to go into the community and help the underprivileged.

Back in those days Seattle University was on the fringe of the Central District, and the Central District was primarily low-income, black in color.  After brainstorming for a week or so, Frank and I decided we were going to volunteer to help disadvantaged kids to read.  We went to the local community center, tossed our idea to the Center supervisor, he gave his approval, and two weeks later we had started the Central District Reading Program.

I remember working with fourth and fifth graders who had the reading level of 1^st grade . . . see Dick run . . . see the cow in the field . . . watch Bob run fast . . . that sort of thing, and wondering how in the holy hell it was possible that there were kids in the Public School System who were that poorly educated.  What kind of disadvantage that must be, at that age, to be unable to read.  What are the chances of success when a kid is basically facing an impossible struggle at the age of ten?  How friggin’ lucky I was . . . I am . . . to have grown up in more supportive circumstances.  And the contrast was so stark: an institute of higher learning literally three city blocks from a community center where kids couldn’t read.

What we as writers do is important.  We are the guardians against widespread ignorance.  We are the other end of the spectrum.  We signify hope and advancement for society.  We tell stories, we report on events, and we explain how things function.  We take readers to far-off lands, and we take them to imaginary worlds.  We are a healthy escape for those kids in poor districts who have stopped dreaming of ever making it out of the Hood.

The day you take your writing talents for granted is the day you should stop writing, because at that point you will have forgotten just how lucky you are to be doing what you are doing.

See Dick run indeed!

Just something to think about!

Bill

“Helping writers to spread their wings and fly.”

Tags: writing tips

More naps these days

As I dive into this memoir thing, I’m coming to the realization that I knew very little about my adopted family.  Is that odd? I don’t know.  I can only recall a scant number of facts about their backgrounds, and after that I have to basically guess about it all.  It’s too bad, I guess, this gaping hole in my ancestral background, and I’m not sure who to blame for it.  We all love to blame, don’t we?  Should I blame my adopted parents for not telling me, or blame myself, heaven forbid, for not asking enough questions during my first twenty years?  I sure don’t want to blame myself although, truth be known, I’m comfortable doing so.

I’m in the process of building a fence in the backyard between us and our neighbors to the north. It’s been a long time coming, one of those chores that just seem to constantly fall down the to-do list.  This fence is eight feet tall rather than the customary six.  That was a purposeful decision, of course, as all are.  We have gone a good number of years with zero privacy back there, and a good number of years enduring the arguing young couple and their countless guests and loud parties.  I can’t do anything about the sound, but I sure can do something about the privacy.

And maybe those first two paragraphs are related.  Maybe my parents just wanted privacy and so did not share their past with their only son.

Finding the reasons for actions, or inactions, is important, don’t you think? It’s something I’m trying to do more of as I grow older and hopefully wiser.  It’s one of the reasons I’ve opened up so much about myself in my writings.  “Why keep secrets” is my mantra.  In truth, nobody can hurt me as much as I hurt myself in the past, so judging me will be like water off a duck’s back.  I might as well just open up and have at it, and perhaps a better understanding about me . . . and perhaps about you . . . will come from it.

There really is a great freedom which comes with growing older and not giving a shit any longer.  I wonder if my parents would have been more forthcoming if they had lived longer?

Knowing them, I doubt it!

Bill

“Helping writers to spread their wings and fly.”

Tags: writing tips

More naps these days

Writing one’s memoirs is an interesting exercise.

My first reaction is one of resistance. It all seems so self-serving, directly opposed to the humility I wish to convey and live by.

It all seems so silly, the concept that my life might be interesting enough for a full-length book. Who would ever find my life to be fascinating?

And yet I see the value in it and, as a writer, I understand that every memoir written is not only written about the author but also about every single person who reads it, because we are all so much the same.  We strive for individuality, from the make-up we use to the clothes we wear to the thousands of possessions we purchase over the years, and yet, at our core, we are the same.  Events which have happened to me are relatable to a great many people.  We all have suffered loss. We all have struggled.  We all have had great personal triumphs, all have loved, and all have similar fears.

So my story is, in many ways,  your story, and perhaps that is the greatest value of a memoir, to show others that they are not alone in this world, that they are not strange in their thoughts, and that they are not mistakes of creation.  We are all stumbling, bumbling, mistake-prone jumbles of emotion, and we are all, in our own way, miracles.

And so it continues!

Bill

Tags: writing tips