Why we write …

This category stems from my “adult presentations” on the Annemarie book. After I explain all the processes I had to learn about to do a children’s picture book, I move into why we write. I include some funny (?) stuff like how I seem to always write on New Year’s Eve where I review the previous year then plan for the upcoming one. However, in reading over past years’ entries I discovered my plans seemed to always be the same and after writing them concluded with a “Now or never!”   I went back recently and wrote in big red letters….”Guess it’s never!”

studentI also took a journaling class which I found quite helpful. We learned how to cover up entries in a variety of ways on pages we didn’t want others to read. I really didn’t need to do much of that because my handwriting has always been such a scrawl that even I can’t read it two days later!

IMG_0718In my presentation I will stress that many of us do not write to make money. I also encourage the attendees to write for other important reasons. I usually show a picture that a former student of mine, an artist, created. It’s a pretty strange drawing, but I resonated with it. You can see that the drawing is a brain on overload and the statement near it “Shut up!”.   I find myself in that dilemma often because I carry around in my head so many stories/worries/everything.   I then reach a point where I have to spit it out so to speak, which means writing. Doing journals, blogs, or daily pages helps one track where he/she has been, and where the journey leads now.

In this area of my website I will share with you what others have written and allowed me to include as to why they write. In the future some of these individuals will be featured in interviews as well.

I write in journals or just little “pieces” when something moves me. But, as I state in my presentations, I never intended to write a children’s picture book. So why did I? Because when my daughter told me my granddaughter was complaining that I had taken her two brothers on many trips but never her, I started thinking. She was a “teeny bopper” at the time and I was certain she wouldn’t want to do a Grandma trip then. But, I did want to do something. So with another bit of information my daughter had shared, the idea to write a book about the experiences Annemarie and I had shared when she was a toddler, grew into what is now projected as a book series with the name brand Annemarie. In my mind, what greater gift could one give a child? Well, in Annemarie’s mind, not that! She was at an age where what others would think if they saw it made a difference, and she didn’t see it as positive. It took so long to get the first book out (and do check the annemariebooks.com website) that the finished product was something she could appreciate and now looks forward to the next book.

Recently I heard of a similar story. A Dad who wrote a picture book dedicated to his children.   I hope someday to have him write about his experience for this blog.

Rosemary Ziebart is a friend. She writes many things including a “grandma” book. That’s how I met her. I saw she was doing a signing for her book. This was shortly before mine was to come out. I went to the bookstore the day after her signing. I wanted to hate that book, but I didn’t.   I loved it! So I got in touch with her, and now we are friends and support each other’s efforts. Rosemary does plays and all sorts of writing, but the books which she cares deeply about are for middle school aged children and cover the time period of World War II when many children were sent to America to escape Hitler’s regime.

Her books are used in many of the schools for their “intercultural” requirement. Forced Journey was one of the first two she’s written in this series. She gives presentations at schools and includes a handout on why she writes and how she came to write this particular book. It started with being inspired by one of her college professors who often told the class, “I came to the United States at age 13 with just the clothes I’m wearing.” Quoting Rosemary, “Several years later I read a newspaper article about the “one thousand children” – Jewish children who’d fled Nazi-held Europe and found refuge in the United States” Thus Rosemary put the Professor’s story together with the article and started writing her book. A second book deals with a girl, not Jewish, but from a wealthy family in England who feared Hitler would win and they didn’t want her brought up in that type of country. This also happened during World War II. The stories are fiction based on fact; she hears from individuals who, like her Professor, lived the experience. They tell her how authentic her books are to what they lived.

In future blogs I will do an interview with Rosemary. One thing I love that she includes on her handout it this statement: “A few of you said you wished o be writers yourself. And I want to day that being a writer is both a gift and a responsibility. You have the opportunity of giving something of great value to other human beings. You’re not giving them a TV or a car or an IPad - but you’re giving your time and effort and a piece of your own heart and soul.”

 

Meghan – “Why She Writes”

Screen Shot 2015-11-12 at 8.15.31 PMMeghan is actually a relative of mine. She recently turned 24 and has a five year old son. I really didn’t know her at all because I’ve been gone for many years from my home town where she lives. I became aware of her health issue and then saw via Face Book that she was writing a blog. Following her blog led me to ask her if she might write a piece for me on why she was doing the blog. She graciously agreed as well as allowed me to also put anything from her pieces as well.   I have used this in all of my adult presentations thus far and will continue to do so.

Meghan’s words:

In April of this year, I was diagnosed with stage 2B Hodgkins Lymphoma. I quickly realized that I needed an outlet for the many emotions I felt daily. I started to write out my thoughts as I felt them and later, I’d go back to piece it all together. I started a blog documenting my battle and have gained a small following.

Writing has helped me in so many ways. Not only is it a way for me to help others battling cancer or other illnesses, but it’s a way to help me sort thought the many ups and downs. I think of writing as my own personal therapy session I get to vent about what I’m feeling whether it’s happiness, anger, frustration or gratefulness. Writing has given me a stronger voice than any therapist could have (and it’s free – can’t beat that!)

8 Weeks Past Chemo

8 Weeks Past Chemo

A portion of one of her blogs I chose to use in my presentation:

“Cancer is a crazy thing. I have never been more surrounded by friends and family. I have never been more supported or loved, or more prayed for. But somehow, cancer can always leave you feeling alone. Sometimes (actually most time), I don’t mind it. I feel so full of thoughts and physical changes lately that most days, it’s easier to be in my bed alone to work though everything I’m dealing with.”

More from Pat on this ….

When one follows her blog regularly you can see how she moves forth in her journey and gains insights along the path. Comments from her followers also indicate that she really is helping others by sharing her experience. There are portions that I do not feel comfortable sharing here, but if you would be interested follow her Face Book – Meghan Bianco.

Along the same lines as Meghan’s story, today I heard about a similar blog on Face Book; this one on anorexia and how the person feels about the Halloween costumes exploiting this medical condition. In my book area I refer to an anthology where I have several pieces included. This book has all true experiences of moving from “grief” to “joy” when a loved one passes on.

At my age there are many “passing on”; however, there are also young people dying or being killed. How does one deal with the aches inside? I am not a Doctor or Nurse, but I firmly believe that we must “get it out” or it take a huge toll on our health.

So, that’s why we write!   I do hope you will feel free to leave comments and/or to share some of your experiences with all of this.

 

 

 

 

The Statues

A grandmother and her grandson were enroute to visit the four year old boy’s great-grandparents.

“Look Grandma. Look at all the statues inthat yard.”

Now the grandmother had driven this route many times in her life and she didn’t remember any statues.

“Where, honey, where do you see statues?”

“There,”he replied. “There, can’t you see them there by that barn?” Grandmother started laughing.

“Oh honey, those aren’t statues; those are cows.”

She made a mental note to see to it that the boy’s great-grandfather who was a farmer at heart, would take the boy out to visit some real live cows.

Do You Remember

A grandmother visited in Clare’s home. This morning she was picking up her four year old grandson to take him to pre-school. As they were getting ready to leave her grandson looked up at her with his saucer size dark blue yes and said, “Grandma, remember when my brother was just a number waiting?”

Grandma couldn’t believe her ears. “What did you say, honey?” And this precious child repeated, “Remember when my brother was just a number waiting.”

“That’s what I thought you said.” Grandma took a few moments to regain her composure. She had heard young children were often still tied to the larger universe. Seeing that those eyes were still staring at her waiting for an answer, she put her arm around her grandson and said, ”   ell, yes I do.”

Grandma and grandson left for pre-school.

Getting Ice Cream

It was the Grandmother’s first visit to the Cape. Her daughter and son-in-law were playing tour guides but also exploring the island since they were newly located there. The boys decided to remain at home on this excursion So Mom, Dad, Grandma and Grandaughter left in search of areas to go crabbing.

After several hours of driving and getting lost, the sun had set and all decided it was time to head for home. Well actually not all, Grandma always went with the program and let the others decide the schedule.

Being a typical toddler of three, the little girl asked, “Can we get ice cream before we go home?” Daddy, known for some spoiling of his offspring agreed they could.

So they pulled off the road at an ice cream and candy store; parked the car and went to order exotic flavored cones. Mom had fruit ripple; Dad chocolate death; Grandma black ‘walnut crunch, and of course the granddaughter had her favorite flavor, vanilla.

The group sat around an outdoor picnic table to lick and relish the cold delight. Dad stood with one leg placed on the bench. Mom sat with Grandma by the little girl. Grandma, having the advantage of age and insight to those special moments, was watching her grandchild eagerly lick the cone as the creme was running down her cheek, her arm, her place at the table.  She looked up and said, “Daddy!”. Next she looked over and said, “Mommy”. Both acknowledged her statements. Grandma watched the toddler’s face. It was like a sun. She was surely in heaven eating her favorite flavor of ice cream surrounded by Daddy and Mommy and all was well with the world. Itwas so beautiful. Grandma turned away because once again she knew the tears were coming.