I am a writer!

August 7, 2005

For many years my husband has been nudging, encouraging me to write, and I have been ignoring him, attributing my neglect of my muse to laziness. It takes too much time to sort through all the hodgepodge of my limited vocabulary to come up with something valuable, something smart to say. I consider myself a writer. I love to write and I think I have some talent for it, yet I write very sporadically. What's up with that? I have been blessed, or cursed, with an ear for the siren's song, and I have been lashing myself to the mast and ignoring it. If you know anything about my work schedule you would know I am not lazy. Unfocused, yes. But not lazy. So what keeps me from my calling? What makes my sword rest so long in my hand? I have known the reason for a very long time, but today I am coming out of the closet.

What binds me to the mast is pure, stark fear. I'm afraid that if I release the muse I will not be able to stop it. It will start with a small tremor that shakes lose a very precarious foundation, dislodging what I believe about the past, what I hope for the future, disturbing the deep waters, causing ripples that grow into a tsunami of words that hurt and destroy. Since I was a child I have feared that the words I had buried in my heart had too much power, like a hydroelectric dam that creates energy but poses an enormous risk to those that live downstream. What if my stories started an avalanche and my mother, my father, my family, or one small soul I don't even know suffered as a result.

This is a fear I will have to conquer, because I am coming to the realization that if I don't say it, it won't get said. No one else has my unique perspective on the world. There is not another person living who has lived inside my head for fifty years, no one else has my particular brand of knowledge. If I go to my grave without sharing my story, this crazy patchwork quilt of a world will be missing my exclusive literary hue. So I am going to write, my love. It may be painful at times because I have determined not to avoid the light or the dark side of things. If I have questions, I will ask them. I will no longer pretend for the sake of faith that they don't exist. I will not be afraid of the truth, or if I am afraid, I will face it square on. “Imua” is a Hawaiian word that means to go forward, and I have adopted it as my mantra, my battle cry. I will go forward when tears blur the words, when joy takes control and wants me to dance instead of write, and even when life seems futile and pointless, I will shout “Imua!” and move on and write about that movement. This is my Ebenezer stone to mark my point of no return. I am a writer. For better or for worse. You asked for it, honey.