When a whisper becomes a shout

The sun is yet to rise. I, however, have had no trouble doing just that. It’s not through choice - a restless night, in another hotel room, has led me downstairs to the lobby of the hotel we are staying at, in Burlington, Vermont. 

Yesterday, as we travelled in the car for the first time, I began reading a book about using your personal experiences as the basis for writing. It taps into something I have long felt, which is that our lives are stories waiting to be told. Each experience, every encounter comes to us as a chapter to be written, shared, read and interpreted. We are both author and avid reader - we write according to the lives we lead, we read in the sense that we absorb and respond to the unfolding pages of others. 

The author of the book I began yesterday is clear that writing is not an easy process. It is worthwhile, yes; but it is not something that occurs without the application of hard work and a degree of solitude. The writer has to be solitary because unless the writer knows him or herself, there is no authenticity in what has been written.

I have never doubted my capacity to put words together. It was why I studied print journalism as my original college degree. What I have yet to commit to, however, is the rigour of being a writer. It requires a self-discipline that I have either lacked or being unwilling to accept and embrace. 

Going through so many of Celena’s possession is revealing just how dedicated she was to the journey of writing. For her, writing was never about a destination - a book,  an article, a post. It was about wrestling with whatever demons or angels dwell inside all of us and then spilling the blood and anguish of that battleground onto a page. My wife knew she had to honour those inner thoughts and emotions, even if only to herself, and was not afraid of what emerged. She knew her inner voice and was not afraid to listen when it spoke. 

I need to take a leaf out of her unfinished manuscript and do the same. Whether it will be a whisper or a shout, only time will tell. Fortunately, as we begin our second week of holidays in the USA, that is something I have plenty of.