Write On
My sister recently reminded me (via The Almighty Facebook, of course!) of an awesome story about our mom. So here is my version of it.
When I was in my mid-twenties (post-college) my mom told me she had run into Mike, a guy I had known (vaguely) from junior high. Reportedly, Mike had asked my mom what I was doing and if I was still writing, and mom said she told him, yes, I was a writer. I replied, "WHAT? Mom, what in the hell do I write?" (I was working retail at a now deceased mall bookstore at the time). And mom said, "Well, you write all the time. You write checks." As often happened when my mom made (at least to me) nonsensical comments in her completely confident Colleen way, I was speechless.
I love this story, because it totally captures so much of my mom's personality and her unabashed insistence of seeing the world her way. It also reminds me that I did want to be a writer from a very early age. (Although I'm still very perplexed about how Mike, a guy that was a couple of years older than me that I think I only talked to a few times, knew this. Perhaps there is another blog post in that about how off-handed comments I have made become cemented in people's perception of who I am). I don't know why my mom told Mike I was writer. I don't think she was embarrassed that I was working retail, I think she just believed that I was happy and successful and that was her way of telling Mike that.
But, back to how I wanted to be a writer...I remember being 8 or 9 and playing with my "My Friend Mandy" doll and pretending that as an adult, I was a writer with my adopted daughter Mandy having my boyfriend Brandon over for dinner. (I'm not sure what I served Brandon...I don't think it was vegetarian or homemade pasta). Next to writer, my other childhood dream job was DJ, mostly because of the tv show "WKRP in Cinncinati." I don't think I was too fussy about what kind of writer I wanted to be. I remember writing poems when I was home sick from school ("A thumb isn't dumb, although it can't hum, or chew bubble gum. Then what can it do? I don't know, do you?" YES, I still remember that. There's my epitaph). Also at around age 8, I wrote a science fiction story called "The Mysterious Mist Monster" that my brother illustrated. I was interested in nonfiction writing, too, so it's no surprise that the Doctor Who companion Sarah Jane Smith, a journalist, was one of my heroes when I got to be 10.
My desire to write continued throughout my formative years. I wrote puppet plays in elementary school, I wrote for our very sparse high school newspaper (I may have been the only staff person), and I co-wrote a play (the beloved "ALA-111," named after my mom's license plate number) for drama class. One of the highlights of my teens was when I won an essay contest my senior year in high school. I can't remember who sponsored the contest or much about the details but I know I wrote a very, very, very earnest piece that had something to do with Bono from U2 and my version of the meaning of life. I'm sure I could not even read it now without being heavily fortified with wine and even then there would still be a great deal of cringing. And it's because of my desire to be a writer that I got to know Chad (at least in this universe). We met when I was an aspiring journalism major in college and he was assigned to train me to be a reporter for the students newspaper.
Obviously, my mom's version of reality and the question of any of the other universes in the multiverse aside, I'm NOT a writer. I don't even write checks very often anymore. But my desire to write has remained. I'm thankful that technology now gives any person the chance to write and "publish," and a little sad/grateful that I didn't have these outlets as a young Amy. It's probably for the best that my Bono masterpiece exists only in the dim recesses of my memory.
Just this weekend, Chad and I took a songwriting class at Twin Town Guitars. I didn't go to the class with the goal of writing songs. I got the class as a Christmas present for Chad with the thought it would be another fun together-time activity for us and that I would learn a little more about music theory and appreciation. The class, taught by the talented Ben Glaros, was great, fun and inspiring. I'm struck by how much Ben's advice about songwriting was relevant to writing in general, especially since I've been thinking so much about writing while working on this post. Ben stressed how important it is to just write, and keep writing, and to be open to ideas and inspiration (even bad inspiration) and I hope to keep doing just that with this blog.
When I was in my mid-twenties (post-college) my mom told me she had run into Mike, a guy I had known (vaguely) from junior high. Reportedly, Mike had asked my mom what I was doing and if I was still writing, and mom said she told him, yes, I was a writer. I replied, "WHAT? Mom, what in the hell do I write?" (I was working retail at a now deceased mall bookstore at the time). And mom said, "Well, you write all the time. You write checks." As often happened when my mom made (at least to me) nonsensical comments in her completely confident Colleen way, I was speechless.
I love this story, because it totally captures so much of my mom's personality and her unabashed insistence of seeing the world her way. It also reminds me that I did want to be a writer from a very early age. (Although I'm still very perplexed about how Mike, a guy that was a couple of years older than me that I think I only talked to a few times, knew this. Perhaps there is another blog post in that about how off-handed comments I have made become cemented in people's perception of who I am). I don't know why my mom told Mike I was writer. I don't think she was embarrassed that I was working retail, I think she just believed that I was happy and successful and that was her way of telling Mike that.
But, back to how I wanted to be a writer...I remember being 8 or 9 and playing with my "My Friend Mandy" doll and pretending that as an adult, I was a writer with my adopted daughter Mandy having my boyfriend Brandon over for dinner. (I'm not sure what I served Brandon...I don't think it was vegetarian or homemade pasta). Next to writer, my other childhood dream job was DJ, mostly because of the tv show "WKRP in Cinncinati." I don't think I was too fussy about what kind of writer I wanted to be. I remember writing poems when I was home sick from school ("A thumb isn't dumb, although it can't hum, or chew bubble gum. Then what can it do? I don't know, do you?" YES, I still remember that. There's my epitaph). Also at around age 8, I wrote a science fiction story called "The Mysterious Mist Monster" that my brother illustrated. I was interested in nonfiction writing, too, so it's no surprise that the Doctor Who companion Sarah Jane Smith, a journalist, was one of my heroes when I got to be 10.
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| Sarah Jane Smith |
Obviously, my mom's version of reality and the question of any of the other universes in the multiverse aside, I'm NOT a writer. I don't even write checks very often anymore. But my desire to write has remained. I'm thankful that technology now gives any person the chance to write and "publish," and a little sad/grateful that I didn't have these outlets as a young Amy. It's probably for the best that my Bono masterpiece exists only in the dim recesses of my memory.
Just this weekend, Chad and I took a songwriting class at Twin Town Guitars. I didn't go to the class with the goal of writing songs. I got the class as a Christmas present for Chad with the thought it would be another fun together-time activity for us and that I would learn a little more about music theory and appreciation. The class, taught by the talented Ben Glaros, was great, fun and inspiring. I'm struck by how much Ben's advice about songwriting was relevant to writing in general, especially since I've been thinking so much about writing while working on this post. Ben stressed how important it is to just write, and keep writing, and to be open to ideas and inspiration (even bad inspiration) and I hope to keep doing just that with this blog.
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