I loved what Karen said so much over at Keeping Secrets that I had to share part of the post here:
"Of course, I believe that all writing is autobiographical in many ways. It shows the deepest heart of the writer, revealing parts that are not apparent to the rest of the world. Writing reveals, and poetry may distill the essence of the person most of all. Yet, as much as it reveals, it also allows one to become someone else, and therein is the rub for those who know the writer. Which person is authoring the piece? Is it the one who is opening her heart for all to see, exposing her truest self, or is it the one who is creating a new reality that has little to do with the author herself but provides a wonderous landscape in which she may wander? Maybe the answer is both."
Yes. She gets it. But I wouldn't expect anything less from a poet. :)
Sometimes I'm afraid to share what I write or think here because I know that some readers - readers that I care about dearly - will make false assumptions or judge me harshly. No one wants to be judged. Other creative types, however, such as Karen, get it. We want to go there. We want to linger in someone else's thoughts, moods - someone else's landscape - for whatever reason. Perhaps we find a commonality, which is comforting to say the least, but more than anything we are intrigued by someone who thinks or acts or believes differently. It's a bit like what I imagine an actor might do in order to prepare for a role...step into someone's shoes and walk around awhile.
Thanks, Karen, for making that post even though your secrets aren't so secret anymore.
1 week ago
13 comments:
Imagine my surprise in coming here to read you and finding myself in your blog!
I think YOU'RE the one who gets it, as I believe most of the writer/readers here do, as well. What is sad is when those we care for do not.
Just today, I felt again the disappointment of being mistaken for my writer's voice. Another family member read the poem about the child born with a caul and told me I cannot share it as long as my father is alive.
Now, bear in mind, if you've read that poem, the father is somewhat of a villain, a coal miner with a heart as black as the coal. My father, who was never a coal miner, bears no resemblance to this character other than being my father. Period. Yet each family member agrees that he would consider this to be an insult to him.
I find your comparison with acting, stepping into someone else's shoes, especially apt, and
I hope your loved ones will accept that your creative self needs to put on that other skin and walk around.
Thanks again, for the recognition. As we say in West Virginia, "takes one to know one!"
I hope that you aren't discouraged by your family! Your poetry is beautiful, and the voice is absolutely valid for millions who might identify with the various speakers in your poems. Your family will get over it eventually. :)
People can be so silly.
Thanks for being the inspiration for this post!
I do like what Karen has to say, but I think you cast additional light on yet another level of wisdom.
One thing I've found through my own development, and in watching other writers develop (both online and through my writing groups and associations) is that most writers start out with that autobiographical focus. But then, as they get more familiar with the craft and more comfortable with extending their own boundaries, they explore more territory. It's what allows that mild introvert to write the convincing serial killer's diary entries. It's what allows the profoundly heterosexual man to write a convincing angst of a teenage girl's first crush (or vice versa).
It takes some time for those close to us to understand that we frequently explore areas we do not wish to live in. And, sometimes, it's hard even for the writer to tell the difference between what is autobiographical, what is fantasy for the self, and what is truly fiction.
verification word: oushmis
No idea what it might mean, but I find it a very pleasing word and think it should mean something.
Thanks, Pjd, for throwing your two cents in. I love what you've said about the journey and the path one meanders in the writing life.
oushmis - hmmm...I think it should be a word that we borrowed from the french...but with some research I have discovered that, possibly, "oushmi" is hebrew for "and (by) My name"...so maybe "oushmis" means "and (by) OUR name..."
Coincidence? With your comments on my other post and my poem, that is kind of weird....(cue the twilight zone music...)
Dear BlueSugerPoet, really thank you for sharing this post, that did really touch me ..
I guess Karen is a real poet..
And dear Karen,
your father, if you really think that he has a bad side, is just one of the life challenges.
Hope you be stronger and let no one decide your fate.
Someday he will be a supporter even if he do not show it.
...weighing in again on the subject of the creative voice and the role of autobiography, I think that when we write we do reach somewhere deep inside to pull out memories and associations; however, as pjd said, writers can expand their boundaries to become their characters. I think it's when they do so that the writing is real. That's what we have to stretch for.
By the way, I'm working on a poem inspired by your post "In My School."
cool, karen. I can't wait to read it! :)
This is just a great post. I loved Karen's Caul poem, and it is an amazing piece of literature. If she used autobiographical info and played with it in her imagination, like PDJ said, that's what writer's do. We're kind of like shamans in a way, flying upon the wings of birds into another point of view and seeing life from that perspective. And our own experience adds depth, honesty and intensity to the experience of the reader. We have to do that to make it believable!
You can make the plunge.
j@na, you do an excellent job yourself, as karen says :)
thanks, Cat. :)Oooo, I like how you've described achieving that "other" perspective. So true!
Jason - always plunging here. :)
laughingwolf - thanks! :)
I think that both Karen and you, bluesugarpoet, have given me the answer I've been looking for.
I had gone private sometime ago, because I wasn't sure if I was comfortable sharing whatever dark spots the deepest parts of my soul held.
Now I have gone public again, and sometimes, because the posts are so personal I wonder why on earth I write for everyone to see the despair, the rot and the highly opinionated stances.
And today when I read this blog, I realised that I write because it is important for more people to accept the person I am when I write; the difficult one to accept- the one that does not pretend, the transparent self that is honest, raw and tells it like it is.
If people can accept me when I write, they can accept me anywhere.
Thank you, both of you.
Thank you for stopping by and commenting, Quaint Murmur! Glad that you've read something that could offer a bit of encouragement to you. Keep writing - angst and all. I've read several of your posts and I LOVE your honest response to what life has unfolded before you.
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