Write Away: Why Do You Write?

Today's prompt is actually the exact exercise found at the end of "Why I Write" by Terry Tempest Williams. Even though it is the same as one I did back in February 2010, this time I'm following Terry Tempest Williams' lead. You should too.

019: Why do you write?

I sit in my bed with my notebook in hand and crave the smooth feeling of the pen gliding across the blank paper. I collect thoughts all day that I can later store in my handheld leafed file, always within arms reach. I hope these words will be my well during a future drought of inspiration. I am drawn to that time alone with my pen. I love to write.

I write because it feels like a deep breath of fresh air. I write to find relief. I write to make peace. I write to find myself. I write to remember. I write to give me confidence when I can’t. I write for my children. I write for myself. I write for the music and rhythm of the words. I write to fulfill my innate desire to create. I write to make a mess of my emotions. I write to clean it all up and package it nicely with a bow. I write to organize and prioritize. I write to be productive. I write to escape from what I need to do into a world of what I want to do. I write to find clarity. I write to make a difference. I write to find joy. I write to show gratitude. I write to say all the things I should’ve said. I write to say all the things I couldn’t say. I write to find courage. I write to find comfort. I write to scratch the itch inside of me to share. I write to fix my craving to connect. I write to be heard. I write to know what could have been. I write to remember why it never was. I write to be okay with that. I write to add more meaning to my words. I write to keep a passion burning within me. I write to flex a muscle I want to grow. I write to explore the potential within me. I write to discover if I even can. I write for the journey. I write to discover. I write because I have a need to define myself. I write to find identity and to hold on to it for dear life. I write because I have a need to be great. I write in hopes of writing something great. I write to be more than I am. I write to make sense of the world around me. I write to make sense of the world within me. I write, and I’m not always sure I make sense. But I write because it feels right.

So...why do you write?

Go ahead -

Write Away!



So...you may also like:
::So...Writing Creative Nonfiction inspiration.
::Write Away: New Year 2010 was a good year. a good year indeed.
::So...Why Do You Blog? for a lot of the same reasons i write.

Thanks for stopping by!

So...writing creative nonfiction

Last week Writing Creative Nonfiction came in the mail for me. Like a friend of mine on facebook said, "it feels like Christmas." Indeed, that's exactly what it feels like.

I could hardly wait until the kiddos were in bed that night so I could crawl under my covers and stick my nose in this book. I am craving some direction and inspiration to write. I am seeking growth and momentum. I opened to the first chapter and read "Why I Write" by Terry Tempest Williams. I was blown away by the passion bursting out of her words. I ate it up in one big swallow. I know I will love reading this book.

Each chapter has a writing exercise at the end. This was one I couldn't pass up. "Why I Write" got me so pumped up I wanted to slam the book shut and furiously put pen to paper. In fact, that's exactly what I did.

I have a feeling these exercises may get the ball rolling again for some Write Away prompts.
I'm pretty excited.
Are you?



So...you may also like:
::So...Write Away the launch.
::Write Away: Just Write inspired by Poetic Asides and my gift of procrastination.
::So...Complete just because.

Thanks for stopping by!

Write Away: Six Word Memoirs

Needham Sis-Inlaw joined in on a fun writing exercise, on her blog.

Basically the challenge was to write a memoir about motherhood in six words. It was really fun! Once I got going, it was hard to stop myself.

Here are some of mine:

I thought I'd have all boys :)

Now I know what love means.

Please stop growing and stay little.

I can't stop kissing those cheeks!

Squishy babies make this mom happy.

A little mom, a little dad.

Three pretty princesses playing ponies together.

I write all day about them.

Be a little better every day.

"Forget yourself and get to work."

All I do is for them.

Please Lord, help me, for them.

How do I deserve these angels?

Seriously, I could go on FOREVER.

I had a blast with this.
This really could be done with any topic.

018: Write a six word memoir about motherhood, or a topic of your choice. Feel free to post yours in the comment section - it would be fun to read them.

Go ahead - try it.

Write Away!

Write Away: Crazy Ideas

One ordinary night while I was sitting in bed I had the crazy idea that I would someday write a book. The thought was enough to make me laugh out loud right then and there by myself in my bedroom. I was sure it was just my sleep deprived, overactive imagination talking. I never thought in a million years that it would really be true.

Ok, I thought to myself in thick disbelief. How would I do start? I don’t even know how to write.

It doesn’t matter. Just write.

Who in the world would read anything that I write? I can’t even speak correct English, nevermind write it! Definitely, nobody would read anything I write. It would just be embarrassing for everyone involved.

My tired eyes flickered shut and I saw a picture flash in my mind of myself, holding my book, standing and talking before a crowd of people. What in the world? I thought I was losing my mind. I was embarrassed that the thought even crossed my mind. I even looked around to see if anyone was there to catch me thinking such crazy thoughts.

With one final chuckle out loud at the ridiculous notion of me writing, I turned off my night lamp and snuggled into my pillow. I hoped that the crazy thoughts would be gone in the morning. Otherwise, I would feel obligated to check myself in to the local mental hospital. Hearing voices trying to convince me of lucrative ideas was definitely not normal. Especially when I talk back.

I used to talk to myself when I walked home from Middle School. Now, I know I just told you that only crazy people talk to themselves, but before you jump to any conclusions, let me explain. It was really quiet on that field. I saved time by walking across a huge field complex that connected my school to the forest across the street from my house. It was so big you probably couldn’t hear somebody yelling to you from the other side. I would talk to myself to keep me from thinking too much.

I would think about somebody kidnapping me on my walk home. I can be dramatic like that. I think about the possibility of something like being kidnapped and then the whole scenario plays out in my mind. I see the scary stalker van pulling up, the masked men with hooded sweatshirts jumping out as if on a secret extraction mission, and the ropes they would use to bind my wrists and ankles. Nobody would even hear me scream. It scared me to think about things like that. So I would talk to keep myself from thinking.

Sometimes I would sing, trying to memorize my favorite songs. Sometimes I would come up with lyrics to my own songs I would someday write. Sometimes I would reenact conversations or arguments I had with teachers, friends, or my parents.

I would say all of the things that I should have said, but never thought about saying in the moment. I could always think of the perfect things to say during those one-sided conversations walking home. I thought about bringing a tape recorder with me, but I never did. I should have done that. I came up with some really good stuff. Perhaps I could have used some of that material for this “book” I’m apparently going to write.

But that's besides the point.

Back to that night.



It was as if a switch was flipped. All I think about is writing. It is in my face everywhere I go. When I relive memories from my childhood in my head I wonder if the story would captivate a reader. When I meet a stranger, I think perhaps she could be an interesting character for “my book.” I think all the time about things to write about. The only problem is, I just can't get it out and on paper.

It seems like everyone and their mother, and their dog, and their dog’s mother is dipping their feet into the testing waters of writing. Everyone has something to say and seems to have even more to write. There is a world of writers out there that I guess I’m supposed to be a part of. The only problem is I’m not sure what to write.



And I’m not sure how I fit in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

write away prompts:
015: Why do you write? What motivates and inspires you?

016: Have you ever felt compelled to do something that you thought was crazy? How did it turn out? Were you glad you did it? Do you regret it? Have you not done it yet? What’s holding you back?


017: Make a list of things to write about. Pick one thing on the list and start writing.





Go ahead -

Write away!

Write Away: New Year

January, in all of its resolution-making glory, is one of my favorite times of the year. Simply because I feel like I can do anything as I commit to all of the things I may or may not have accomplished the year before. It is one of the few times I year that I actually feel "on top" of it all. I love making lists and New Years Resolutions is, of course, the list of the year.

Twenty ten, the second decade of the millennium, ten whole years after Y2K, feels like it will be a year to remember. I can feel change in the wind and am hoping for good things to come my way.

At the turn of the century, back when there was talk about the end of the world, I remember thinking seconds before the clock struck twelve, “Crap. If the world is ending now, I’m in big trouble.” I am proud and relieved to say that I had the opposite feeling this year watching the ball drop at the turn of the decade. I couldn’t help but think how far I have come and how far I still want to go. I am full of hope. I am full of excitement. I am full of anticipation and I couldn’t wait to jump right into 2010.

This year I am going to be a better me. This year I am going to talk less and act more. This year I am going to be more confident in my place as a wife, mother, and friend. This year I am not going to get caught up on the little insignificant things and focus more on the great and wonderful things in my life. This year I am going to love more honestly and more completely. This year I am going to spend more time doing things that I love and stop wasting time doing things that are not important. This year I am going to step outside of my comfort zone and experience some major growth. This year I am going to take risks.

This is the year. I can feel it.


Here are your prompts for today:

012: Write about your hopes for the New Year. What are you looking forward to? What are you dreading? What is your feeling as we roll into a new decade?

013: Reflect on the past decade. What things are you most proud of? What do you wish happened differently? If you saw yourself now, ten years ago, would you be surprised of what you saw? Write a letter to your 2000 self, giving advice about how to handle everything that will happen (has happened) in the coming decade.

014: Where do you see yourself ten years from now? What do you hope is different? What do you hope is the same? What do you want to accomplish and/or learn before 2020?

Go ahead -
Write away!

Write Away: Fresh Start

It being New Year's and all, I thought it would be appropriate to write about fresh starts.

Here are the prompts:
009: Write about starting over. What are you looking forward to in the New Year? What things will be on your List of Resolutions? Pick one and write about it.

010: Write about a time in your life when you had a fresh start – perhaps the beginning of college, a new job, moving to a new home. What were you feeling? Excited? Scared? Anxious? Sad? What caused the change?

011: Write about entering a new phase of life – motherhood, adulthood, marriage, divorce, etc. You could write about yourself, someone you know, or a fictional character. Start writing and see where it takes you.

Here is my attempt:

write away 010: Bus Ride

“Now don’t forget, stay with your sister. Remember how nervous you were on your first day? Stay with her and make sure she gets to her class safely.”

Yea right, like he’ll do that, is what I thought, and I’m sure exactly what my brother was thinking as well. I knew as soon as we were on that bus my brother would want nothing to do with me.

I still can’t believe my mother put me on that school bus that day. I wasn’t even five years old and I could barely lift my foot high enough to reach the first step on the bus. My brother was a third grader so he was bigger and had more experience with these kinds of things. I’m sure she thought him being with me made it OK for someone as little as me to venture off on a monstrous vehicle to a place that seemed to me to be worlds away from home. I’m sure that made sense to her, but to me it seemed crazy.

My hands were going numb standing there waiting. I was clenching my fists so tightly I was losing circulation. I didn’t want to open my hands because I was sure my fingernails were breaking the skin. If my palms weren’t so shaky and sweaty my fingers probably would have stayed clenched that way forever. They kept slipping though, and my muscles were getting tired.

I kept my eyes glued to the top of the hill where I knew the bus would come. My ears were perked to every squeak or crack I heard, listening for the motor and breaks. The bus would be there any second and then there was no turning back.

My brother hopped right up onto the top step as soon as the door swung open. He ran down the aisle and disappeared next to someone I didn't know. By the time I reached the top I couldn’t see even the top of his head. I only saw a blury forest green sea of faux leather benches and I felt like I was drowning. I took one timid step to the first empty seat and slid as close to the window as I could. I pressed my nose against the cold glass, sucked my bottom lip in, and bit down hard. I took in one big sniffle and let out one big tear.

Here we go, I thought, as the rumbling bus pulled away from my street.


Go ahead -
Write Away!

Write Away: Just Write

007: Just write. This time of year is full of all sorts of feelings, memories, wishes, dreams, and reflections. Don't worry about punctuation, spelling, or even if you are making any sense. Don’t think to much - just write.

008: Turn it into a poem. If you want to go one step further, go back to the stream of thoughts that you just wrote down and underline words, phrases, and/or sentences that stand out to you. Then, piece them together in a poem. The poem doesn’t have to follow the same train of thought as your original writing. The poem may even take off in a completely different direction. Just have fun with it.

I have gone ahead and done both. I thought tonight would be a perfect opportunity to get some uninterrupted writing in. Everyone is asleep, I have loaves of bread to watch rise and bake for a few more hours - what else am I going to do? And with all the busy-ness of the season, I haven't had much time to just sit and write.

I used Poetic Asides Wednesday Prompt to get me going.

write away 007:

“I’ll get around to it.” I feel like I used to say that a lot more than I do now. I think I still say it, but I am getting better. It is the sign of a true procrastinator. In fact, I think that might be all a procrastinator ever says. I’m trying to be better about not procrastinating. I’ve learned the hard way too many times about not doing things when I know I need to. And there is not a worse feeling than not being prepared. Ok, there probably is a worse feeling, but it still doesn’t feel very good. I would like to try and avoid that feeling if possible. The thing about procrastination is, I find myself sometimes even procrastinating not procrastinating. I know I don’t want to procrastinate, but I’m not sure when I want to do anything about changing the fact that I procrastinate. But like I said, I am getting better. So maybe that means that I have gotten around to doing it. Maybe.

write away 008:
So, then I went back and highlighted.

“I’ll get around to it.” I feel like I used to say that a lot more than I do now. I think I still say it, but I am getting better. It is the sign of a true procrastinator. In fact, I think that might be all a procrastinator ever says. I’m trying to be better about not procrastinating. I’ve learned the hard way too many times about not doing things when I know I need to. And there is not a worse feeling than not being prepared. Ok, there probably is a worse feeling, but it still doesn’t feel very good. I would like to try and avoid that feeling if possible. The thing about procrastination is, I find myself sometimes even procrastinating not procrastinating. I know I don’t want to procrastinate, but I’m not sure when I want to do anything about changing the fact that I procrastinate. But like I said, I am getting better. So maybe that means that I have gotten around to doing it. Maybe.

Here's what I came up with for a poem:

"I'll Get Around to It"

I used to say that a lot more than I do
now. I still say it, but I am getting better.

It’s the sign of a true procrastinator. That
might be all a procrastinator ever says.

I’m trying to be better about not
procrastinating. I’ve learned the hard way

too many times. There is not a worse feeling
than not being prepared or not doing

something when I know I need to. Ok,
there probably is, but it still doesn’t feel

very good. I would like to avoid it
if at all possible. I find myself sometimes

procrastinating not procrastinating.
I’m not sure when I will do something

about changing the fact that I
procrastinate. But I am getting better.

Maybe that means that I have started
getting around to doing it. Maybe.



It's a pretty fun way to write and create poetry.
It's kind of like organizing unorganized matter.
It feels good.


Go ahead -
Write Away!

Write Away: Spirit of Christmas

004: What do you think the true Spirit of Christmas is? Write a story, real or fictional, depicting the true Spirit of Christmas.

005: The Savior teaches us to love our neighbor as we love ourselves. Which is more difficult? Make a list of 25 things that you really love about yourself. Then make a list of 25 things you love about your neighbor (or your spouse, your friend, your mother, whomever).

006: Write a letter to someone who has influenced who you are. The letter could express appreciation – perhaps to a family member, your significant other, a teacher or mentor, an old friend, or a stranger. Or perhaps it is a letter of apology to someone you have wronged, or a letter of forgiveness to someone who has hurt or offended you. Tell this person how they have changed your life. Whether or not you send this letter is completely up to you.

See the next post for my attempt.

Go ahead -
Write Away!

So...the letter

write away 006:

Marchelle’s birthday was on December 9th, exactly one year and three months after mine. If Marchelle were still alive she would be 25. She passed away on September 12th, 2007.

Marchelle and I were two of very few girls in our church. We lived in the same town. When we first met, we didn’t go to the same school, but we went to the same church, which was something. Not very many people in our town went to our church.

Marchelle was an only child, living with her mom who came to church, and her step dad who didn’t. I was the fourth child out of five, with two parents who came to church regularly. She was bright and bubbly and I was outgoing and silly. We quickly bonded. All of my memories of us together are full of giggling. We were good friends, but I always felt a bit like an older sister to her.

In fact, I felt like the older sister to all of the kids in our church. My parents, along with other members of our church, reminded me often how much of an example I was to all the kids. It was a responsibility that I did not enjoy or want, and to be honest, one that I didn’t fill. Let’s just say I was somewhat of an experimental youth that took awhile to figure out who I wanted to be. Unfortunately, being one of the few Mormons around didn’t leave a lot of room experimentation. I felt like I was an example, good or bad, to not only the kids in our church, but to everyone.

But that’s a story for another day.
Back to Marchelle…

Even though Marchelle was only one year younger than me, two years separated us in school. As we grew older and entered high school, we both became busy with friends and various activities. We attended early morning seminary together and I drove her to school every morning. Other than that, we really only saw each other in the school hallways and at church activities. Eventually I graduated from high school, moved out here for college, and our relationship consisted of a few phone calls a year. I have to admit; she did most of the keeping in touch. She was so good about calling, emailing, and coming to see me when I was home for the holidays.

I didn’t know much about Marchelle’s personal life after high school and felt like it wasn’t my place to know anymore. I suspected that she wasn’t going to church. Of course, I connected all sorts of dots and felt like somehow I had something to do with that. Maybe if I had….and maybe if I hadn’t….I held onto many regrets. The biggest one being that I never had a conversation with Marchelle about choices I made in high school and my choice to change. Whenever I thought of Marchelle, I felt the weight of my “failure” to be the example everyone expected me to be.

For years I thought about how to talk to her. I had many conversations with her, started many phone calls, emails, and letters, all only in my mind. I never actually reached out. I thought about Marchelle often.

In June of 2007, Marchelle, along with a short list of others, were heavily on my mind. I had some unsettled business with people in my past that I needed to work out. Mostly apologies. Some I needed to tell how much they meant to me because I hadn’t before. Marchelle was in both of those categories. Marchelle was first on my list.

I started writing her a letter. I didn’t have the courage to call her. I didn’t have the faith in myself to be able to express what I wanted and needed to tell her. So I started a letter. I started it, and never finished it. All summer that letter was on my mind. “Finish it!” I heard all the time and kept thinking I eventually would and there was no need to rush. It was ridiculous how strongly I felt I needed to finish that letter and how stubborn I was to actually do it.

Wednesday afternoon, on September 12th, my mom called me. I could tell in her voice that something had happened. She told me that Marchelle had died.

What?

My breath was gone. I could not believe it. Out of all of the people, and of all the things that could’ve happened….

I immediately thought of the letter. I understood the urgency I felt about finishing it. I was devastated.

After lots of tears, reflection, prayers, and verbal apologies to Marchelle herself, I finished her letter. I left the first half as it was. I gave the letter to her mother and asked her to read it to Marchelle at her grave sight. Perhaps that's how is was meant to be.

Marchelle came into my life in a very normal way and did not appear to be of much consequence. Yes, we were friends, but how many friends come and go throughout our lives and eventually become childhood memories and acquaintances we keep in touch with only through facebook? I had no idea how much Marchelle would impact my life.

Marchelle taught me to listen to promptings.
She taught me to get over myself and tell people what they mean to me. Now.
These are two of the most valuable lessons that I have learned in my life thus far.

Marchelle came into my life in a very normal way, but the way she left changed my life forever.

Write Away: First Love

001: Write about your first love. How did you meet? How did you break up? What first sparked your interest? Where is that love now?

002: Write a scene in where two lovers, real or fictional, meet for the first time. Do they fall in love at first sight? Do they hate each other at first? Is the scene romantic, comical, ironic, tragic?

003: Do you believe in love at first sight?

Here's my attempt:

NHS Lacrosse 2001

write away 001:
I fell in love when I was fourteen years old. A bit early for a first love, but regardless, I fell in love. I fell hard.

It was love at first sight when I put my first lacrosse stick in my hand. I didn't even know what to do with it. I just loved it. I loved how the leather shooting strings smelled. I loved how the cold titanium felt in my hands. I was like Harry Potter picking up his wand for the first time - golden rays of light, wind in my hair, music playing, the whole bit. It was just like that. Kind of.

I think I knew right away that lacrosse was going to change me.

I didn't know one thing about lacrosse when I showed up at tryouts. I didn't know what the field looked like. I didn't know how many players were on the field at one time. I didn't know one rule of the game. I assumed the point of the game was to score goals, but I wasn't even sure about that. I barely knew how to hold the stick. Basic terms like "shooting space," "crease," "cover point," and "draw," sounded like Greek to me. For one second, actually one split second, I thought I was crazy for being there. Then I snapped out of it, and thank goodness for that.

Lacrosse became my passion. I couldn't get enough. I was the girl who came early and stayed late to practice. I was the girl that rode her bike over to the middle school to play wall ball at night, even in the snow. I was the girl who brought my stick with me to sleepovers. Not because I wanted to impress anyone, and not because I wanted to be the best, but because I truly could not get enough. I was a bit obsessed and I didn't care what anyone thought about it. I would do anything to have lacrosse in my life.

That's what happens when you fall in love. You can't get enough.

Soon lacrosse became a part of me. I was a lacrosse player. I didn't make any sense without lacrosse. The field was the only place that I felt complete. I felt confident. I felt strong. Nothing else in the world mattered except what I did on that field. I could escape in the game. In my world on the field I felt in control. I felt trusted. I felt needed. I felt looked up to. I felt like I was made to play lacrosse and nothing felt better than to play. It felt as natural and wonderful as taking a deep breath.

***********************************

That's all I have in me right now.
The kiddos are needing me.
Hope one or all of these prompts inspire you.
Go ahead.
Write away!

On a side note, does anyone know why I can't copy & paste things in blogger?

So...Write Away

"If you wake up in the morning, and you can't think anything but singing, then you should be a singer, girl."
(Somebody please tell me what that's from)

I used to wake up in the morning and think about lacrosse. I would actually go to bed thinking about it, dream all night about it, and then wake up in the morning and think about it all day. I still dream about it sometimes, I still think about it a lot, and all the feelings always come back when I do. I think back on lacrosse as I do a first love - the excitement of young love; the adrenaline and thrill; the irresistible attraction. But my passions and my dreams changed as I grew older. Moving on was a necessary and important choice that I made. It was the right choice.

 

Sometimes I let myself see the tragedy of letting go of my one true dream and passion of playing lacrosse. I had huge dreams with the game by my side and truly never thought I would be complete, or survive, without it. But like all great love stories, I eventually had to choose between two loves - lacrosse and my family. Not because either one required me to choose, but because I am a girl who gives myself completely to my love and passion. I couldn't split myself between the two anymore. I wanted to give myself compeltely to my family.

 

Realizing that lacrosse didn't fit in my life anymore was difficult. I think I was in denial for a few years, holding on to any little bit of it that I could. I even had a counselor (I still don't call her what she really is - a therapist) tell me a couple years ago, when I was going through post-partum depression, that I was actually mourning the loss of lacrosse in my life. My reaction was, "Seriously? Seriously?!" It was in that moment that I realized how much it was affecting me, how much it was affecting my family, and that I could finnaly let it go.

 

But this is all only background information. This story has a happy ending. I promise.

Writing has become a new passion of mine, one that fits better with my dreams for my life and my family. I feel similarly to that first day I walked into the gym for lacrosse tryouts. I don't know very much and I am very inexperienced. All I know is that I love it and I can't get enough of it. I wake up and think about writing. I go to sleep thinking about writing. I try to fit writing into my day whenever, wherever, and however I can. My inner Whoopi is saying "You're a writer girl!" I have big dreams about becoming a better writer and about accomplishing goals and projects. My main obstacle most days is finding something inspiring to write about.

Which leads me to my next project.

Project: "Write Away!"

I will be giving myself, and anyone else who would like to join me, writing prompts to get myself going, and hopefully spark some inspiration. If any of you (very few who actually read this blog) feel like participating, go for it! And let anyone else know who you think would like to participate as well.
Feel free to share your writing or any excerpts in the comment section of the prompt posts. Or, if you blog about the prompts and want to share, please share a link in the comments as well.
I'm so excited! Here we go...

(someone remind me why I thought it was a good idea to cut my hair...)