Mama, What Are You Writing?

On Thursdays I volunteer in James's class.

It's actually a pretty sweet gig. My role is to work with the members of the fluency club, who are kids who just need to practice reading out loud to work on their reading fluency. I listen to them, time them, encourage them. And because reading is not an area where James struggles (believe me, there are areas where James struggles,) I get to be around without needing to be in his space which is good.

As I was cleaning up to leave today (I'm there first thing in the morning for about an hour while Max stays home with Daddy while Daddy works,) they were working on writing their nonfiction books and James was extraordinarily proud of the book he is writing on tarantulas.

I want that back.

I want to be just delighted to be writing something, anything. Not struggling with imposter syndrome or wondering why I've never published that book I've been saying I'm going to write my entire life...to just be doing it. I miss that so much and I can't even remember the last time writing felt that free. Maybe never. Maybe when I was 8.

Tonight I pulled out my laptop to work on a project that isn't nearly as fun. I think I told you all that I signed on to be a volunteer writer to help capture the story of a dementia patient. Well, without giving away sensitive information, it's been a lot harder than I ever thought it would be. This particular individual has...a set of beliefs that are incredibly difficult to write about but can't be left out of his story because they are too closely tied to the trajectory of his life. In addition to that, his current circumstance is challenging and makes it impossible for me to get any more information from him. I need to create a twelve page biography and my rough draft has been at paragraph three for probably a month now.

There are always reasons to put it off, but tonight I decided it was time to rip off the Band-aid as this has been HAUNTING me, so I pulled out my laptop as James was headed to bed and just banged out a four page rough draft. It was incredibly difficult. But I did it. It feels good to do hard things.

James was so excited to see me writing. He wanted to talk about his book and how hard he's been working and he was so excited that I am writing a book as well. It doesn't matter to him one bit that only three copies will be printed and the one that's mine I kinda...don't want. The process and the fact that he and I are engaged in the same process is enough for him. For a minute, for just a minute we felt connected by that and I got a little bit of joy out of being able to just say I am a writer. I read a book a couple of weeks ago that was the first book written by a woman my mom's age. I'm not done yet. It can still happen.

Although then today, I also read an essay by Gordon Korman on how he became a writer, writing his first novel in English class when he was in seventh grade. There's an ego buster.

There's a lot going on in the world, you guys. If I was really doing this blog to keep you up to date on world events of this era like I said I was going to there are lots of things I would say. But I can't say any of them right now. I just wrote the hardest four pages of my life and my soul is tired. Sometimes the local crowds out the world, even if the world needs words said. Not all stories have to be mine to tell and the one I am telling today is difficult enough.

So I write. I put words on paper, on blog, on laptop, on wherever, and for today that is enough. If I never have a book, at least I will always have the moments when James and I share the same craft. Because writing a novel is a huge scary thing often beyond your control. But telling story...is the stuff that makes us human.

Okay...media consumption. I finished Grace and Frankie last night and although that show jumped the shark awhile ago I will still miss it. Josh has talked me into watching Severance which I hate watching before bed because I don't want to dream about it so sometimes after I throw on some Golden Girls. The book I mentioned before was Threading My Prayer Rug by Sabeeha Rehman and the book that Gordon Korman contributed to was a book called Hope Wins about the childhood stories of children's writers. I'm also reading Last Night at the Telegraph Club for pride month, lots of pride picture books, and today I read a bit about the Negro Leagues and started a kids biography of Effa Manley (the only woman in the baseball hall of fame, owner of the Negro League Newark Eagles.)

Today I'm grateful for writing, James, books, sun, rain, tuna casserole, Max, coffee, rest, and the people who love me.