Stack up words
Brick by brick
Count syllables
Tick tick tick
Build a story
Create a wall
Peek over the top
You can’t see me at all
The poet writes
And hides within
Shows you beauty
Reveals sin
I was reading a book (it doesn’t matter) in the waiting area at the salon. I read the little description on the cover and then the authors bio blurb on the inside back cover. As I finished the first chapter (while waiting to get my hair cut) it occurred to me that the author had inserted himself into the book, not as the narrator but in the voice of the father figure. The further I read it became obvious that the author was also speaking as the best friend. I managed 5 chapters before being called back for my turn in the chair. During my haircut the book’s owner returned to reclaim it. I will not be searching it out to finish. But it got me to thinking about how we try as story tellers and writers to both reveal ourselves and at the same time divorce ourselves from the story. Some writers are better at it than others. People have assumed that I am my characters. I’ve been asked if I have ever been in an abusive relationship, faced death, worked in the military or the police force, and if I’ve ever been divorced. The answer is no, none of the above. Yet I have felt many of the same emotions that are universal to many situations. They overlap and so yes, I’ve been afraid, terrified, ashamed, cowed, berated, ordered, commanded, in love, out of love, rejected, comforted those dying and those grieving. I’ve marshaled the troops (I did raise 2 boys) and formulated a battle plan (I worked in a hostile work environment for many years). However I am not a sociopath or psychopath. I am not a recluse or a crazy cat lady. And so I continue to reveal myself in this blog as I write about my ordinary life and I draw on my observations and my emotional experiences to flesh out the characters in my stories. In case anyone was confused…
A Different Perspective 