Bound and Gagged

It started with a phone call. Bad things had happened and more were coming. We rushed to be rescuers, but the damage was done. Life as we knew it was gone. 

The changes were huge and came at me quickly. I, who had so much solitude, suddenly was surrounded by others and had no place to hide. I, who was not a mother, was all of the sudden called to mother many. I, who had as a professional helped others through crisis, was suddenly in the middle of crisis. As much as I was prepared to help others through trauma, my own trauma left me feeling adrift. 

And almost immediately I lost my voice. There were no words to write. I could not even form an idea, much less find the words to express it. I used to lay my heart bare on a page and then share it with those travelers who stopped by. Now there was almost too much to share, but I had no voice. 

Had I even still had my voice, it could not be my own anymore. Every one of my words would have a profound effect on those who now wholly depended on me for safety and support. My story was no longer my own. The story of one had become the story of many. There was no way to separate any of us out from the plot line. 

How would I use a voice if I had one? The very ones that I must speak for are also the ones for whom I must also be silent. How would I use my voice for them if it came back? I cannot begin to imagine it.

There are some who view this as a necessary season of silence. Necessary or not, I feel bound and gagged. I wonder when this season will change. How will I recognize it? Will it start with a phone call? 

Incidentals

So here we are again. It has been so long since we shared this space together. So much has changed. There are so many things I should have told you, but the words have slipped through my fingers. 

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I, who have never been a mother, have been told to mother four children. However, I am supposed to always keep in mind that I am not their mother. Being without a mother myself, I am often at a loss when I find myself needing motherly advice about mothering. I need to know how to keep from smothering. 

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I don’t hear God, but I know He is there. This could be a comfortable, companionable silence or it could be something else…

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My new favorite new phrase is "fractured intentions" (from Still by Lauren Winner). What is your favorite new thing?

My Anorexic Blog

I am hungry for words. Ravenous. But I won't let myself have them. And so my poor little blog is starving to death. 

What would happen if I would just allow myself those words? Would my blog be too "fat" or "heavy"? Would it not look as lean and healthy as other blogs? What if my words do not look as good as some others? Would it matter to anyone but me that I somehow failed in the comparison? Does it matter?

And so my "art" imitates my life and becomes disordered... maybe there is some clinical diagnosis for not allowing yourself to write. Or maybe I am just thinking too hard.

Poor little starving blog. You need some words.

Being A Good Blogger

When I started blogging about a year ago, I knew why God had me writing. I knew that He was holding me accountable for the lessons I was learning. My few readers were, in effect, my accountability partners. God was teaching me about mercy in all types of situations, and I was willing to share those lessons with anyone who had the time and motivation to read what I wrote. 

As I wrote about what I was learning, there were moments of joy, sadness, fear, and sometimes humor. I was in the midst of grief, and I shared that too. A small group of friends - some old and some new - encouraged me with comments and emails, and they shared their journeys with me as well.

Somewhere in the journey, though, I got distracted. I visited many blogging communities and was swept up in their enthusiasm for writing and their love of words. I read many types of advice on blogging: 

use bullet points; don't use bullet points; keep it short; write in a journalistic format; DON'T USE ALL CAPS; write poetry; don't use too many complex sentences; have giveaways; comment on other blogs so you can get more comments on your own; belong to this or that blogging group; use other peoples' link buttons on your posts; write from your heart; don't disclose so much about yourself; go to conferences where there is a lot of talking; blah blah blah; find a quiet space; read this book before you blog any more; care about what e-books are doing to the traditional publishing industry; don't overuse semicolons; know what your readers want; engage your readers with questions; use bold type for your important points; eat bacon-fried bacon on Tuesdays; add photographs to your posts; add YOUR OWN photographs to your posts; write about being a child sponsor; tout this cause; participate in this project; be a minimalist so that readers can fill in the gaps with their own imaginations; be wordy so that the reader has a sense of exactly what you mean; my head is exploding and I haven't even covered half of the blogging advice I've gotten...

Wow. That is a lot to take in, especially when you are the new kid on the block. I got so caught up in trying to figure it all out that I started feeling guilty for not doing it all. The guilt made me unable to even start typing. Thinking about being a "good" writer/blogger actually made me into nothing at all. I felt advised to the point of muteness.

I don't know if I am a good enough writer/photographer/artist/fill-in-the-blank to do all of those suggested things. I don't know what my readers want and I don't even always know what I want. I've already got so many books to read that I don't have room for them all in my house. I don't know if I want to follow all of this blogging advice and be a part of all of these projects. So does that mean I'm a bad blogger? Does that mean I'm not a "real" writer? Does it matter? 

I just don't know. I don't even know if I have the energy to find out. 

Let me tell you what I do know. God wants me to get up and go out and have a life. Sometimes just the getting up and going out is so hard that I lay paralyzed with fear while tears run down my face. God wants me to write about that. The times that I actually get out and participate in life, I learn so much about God, His love, His mercy, and myself that it just blows my mind. He wants me to write about that too. Sometimes God gently disciplines me to keep me from pursuing a path of destruction. He especially wants me to write about that. 

So here is what I intend to do:

• I will write long, wordy posts about what God is teaching me.
• I will write about the humor God shows me in life.
• I might have a few more giveaways because they are fun and I really like fun.
• I will be kind to any commenters I might have.
• I will not beat myself up for not keeping up with 35 other blogs.
• I will not keep up with the state of the publishing industry.
• I will not let anyone but God dictate my subject matter.
• I might USE ALL CAPS IF I'M FEELING STRONGLY ABOUT SOMETHING
• I will enjoy the blessings of sitting in my cozy little corner writing for God.

Does any of this make me a good or bad blogger? I don't know, but here I am.

On Having a Writing Routine

I really enjoy how the internet lets me follow a link to a link to a link to find something unexpected but interesting or useful. I also enjoy the fact that even though I don't put down a trail of breadcrumbs so that I can trace my way back, I still end up safe and sound in front of my computer where I started. I was on one of those bunny trails this morning and ended up reading about the routines that writers follow when they are working. The last site I ended up on had compiled the routines of authors such C.S. Lewis, John Grisham, and Stephen King. This subject of writing practices has come to my attention several times in the last few weeks, so of course I thought this was an opportune moment to add my thoughts on it to the blogosphere.

Throughout my elementary, junior high, and high school career, the idea was hammered into me that to write anything well (except maybe a poem), one must first put together a numbered outline before sitting down to compose an essay, research paper, or novel. Deviation from writing ideas down in the exact order of the outline was discouraged. Opening paragraphs and closing paragraphs (tell them what you are going to tell them,  tell them, and then tell them what you told them) were the bane of my existence. Counting the number of simple, compound, and complex sentences in each essay to make sure it was "balanced" was a chore. My writing style was often praised by my teachers, but the writing process they had us follow was excruciating to me. If I had something to say, I wanted to just be able to say it. These rules and regimens did not exactly inspire a longing for "author" status in me. 

When the time came for me to take English Composition as a foundation class in college, I thought that it would be more of the same. Students would need to be reading, thinking, and writing on a higher level, but the process would not change. I was right and I was wrong. In the English classes I had taken previously, we had read works of several great authors. We had talked about the events in their lives that might have influenced their ideas. However, I don't remember us discussing the authors' personal quirks and eccentricities in general or specifically applied to how they set about writing. I'm sure I really believed that Shakespeare, Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Rand, and Dr. Seuss all started with a numbered outline and did not deviate from the order without first consulting their editor, twelfth-grade English teacher, or the Elizabethan equivalent. They probably sat upright (with excellent posture) at a desk that had the essentials laid out in perfect order but without any frilly extras. 

On Going to a Writers' Retreat - Part 2

I'm sitting here trying to keep the puppies from feeling ignored (they make me pay when I leave them for a few days). Getting coherent thoughts is a little hard. The question everyone has been asking me is, "how was the Writers' Retreat?" I'm trying to keep all those thoughts together in one place before moving on to the next thing in life, but it is hard. Hubby and I are supposed to be having dinner tonight with a friend who is in from New York. The pauses are just not long enough sometimes.

There isn't enough space on this blog to tell you about the whole event. I could write a post just about Laity Lodge and the wonderful staff there. I could write another post just about my roommate and the things we have in common. Another essay could cover the way Kathy Hastings made artists out of a group of non-artists. I think I could go on and on about how wonderful it was to see water - the Frio River - while the rest of my life is affected by horrible drought, burn bans, and huge fires. I could produce a good five paragraphs about the way we all worshiped together every morning. And even more... I think you will have to email me your questions if I don't cover what you want to know about. There is just so much... let me see what I can give you now.

God's Mangy Dog Rescue and Obedience Training Program

Saturday I got to spend some time with a friend helping her learn how to set up a blog. Her blog will be vastly different than mine in purpose and audience, but I was able to steer her around some of the newbie pitfalls I've backed into these past few months. (Plus it was just a good excuse to spend time together!)

I thought it was amusing that my friend had asked me for help when I had never intended to be a blogger. My blogging came about through a strange sequence of events that was set in motion by the death of my precious mother. I sometimes wonder if Mama were alive and in her room right down the hall, would I even be in this community with you? Would I know that you were here? We'll never know, but it reminds me that I did not end up sitting in this corner typing because I had always thought that people wanted to read what I have to say.

One of the questions that my friend asked me is, "how did you get people to read your blog?" I explained a little of how I had met my "five loyal readers" and my gracious visitors.  I also told her about something I had just read that said bloggers need to be able to explain their blog succinctly when asked about their writing. Just saying, "I just write about what is going on with me whenever I feel like it" does not usually inspire people to take the time to come to your blog to see what you have to say - not unless they are a good friend or loving relative. Of course, my very organized friend already had a mission statement for her blog, so I was not worried that she could "sell it" to readers. However, it did make me wonder if I could tell you what I'm doing here on my little patch of internet real estate.