Field of Dreams

Pink Princess Diary

Writing comes to a woman for different reasons.  The list is endless.  Some writers I’ve met have been writing since the third grade when Mrs. Williams explained the essay.

 

“First there is the introduction….

….

………

And the final paragraph is the conclusion: gracefully exit your essay by making a quick wrap-up sentence…”

 

Other writers discover their passion when Mom’s younger sister, Ellie—the bad sheep and hippy of the family—gifts the first diary key included, one Christmas.

“It’s for your inside thoughts and anything you don’t want your mom to know about.  Remember to hide the diary and the key in separate places.  Don’t worry too much about spelling, just write what your heart is feeling.”

 

At fourteen, your heart was racing faster than a Formula One race car and the blurred images in your mind sent you into the library to read Lady Chatterley’s Lover, the one book your mom said she read over and over again before kissing that tall boy, Tommy,  for the first time. The princess diary, unremarkable at first, turns out to be equal in strength to titanium. It shoulders the weight and burden of those early teen years that includes a flight of firsts: menstrual cycle, blemishes, restless nights, bras with hooks, boys with wandering hands. Later there is a second read of D. H. Lawrence’s book.  The subsequent read left you breathless for reading. It’s a new reckless pleasure. There was something in the way Mr. Lawrence conjured magic with nouns, verbs, adjectives, even adverbs, which tickled your fancy.

Or maybe you’re the type writer who suffered and survived a life-altering event.  This is a writer on a quest, which is only understood through cryptic notes scribbled in a tan leather journal—after a glass of Merlot—purchased from a bookstore where you stopped after work to pick up the latest novel by an author whose stories make you feel better about own dire state of existence.

In some cases—mine comes to mind—there are imaginary almost life like people whose names come to you while standing in line at Safeway, at 3 AM, as the cloud of déjà vu evaporates, who are living inside of your head with delightful tales waiting to take dimension if only you’d transcribe their plight.

Field of Dreams

Motivations for writing are endless and as unexplainable as love.  The reason that brought you to the passion is yours alone and try as you might you’ll never adequately explain it to others.  All you know is you woke up one morning with an unquenchable desire to write a novel, start a blog, or buy a journal.  My dad woke after the removal of brain tumor wanting to write.

 

“Bren, his pet name for me, the good Lord has granted me a pardon.  I want to write a poem, do you have a note book?” 

We girls made eye contact with one another.  Mom spoke first.  “Dad, she called him that, what do you want to write a poem about?” 

“My conversations with God, we are always talking him and I in my head and I want to write a poem about it.”  His voice was matter of fact, solid.  “Bren, go find me a notebook.”

 

For five years, he wrote in the car, at the kitchen table, under the moon. When a poem took hold, he wrote. He finished two volumes of poetry before giving way to cancer.  He was gifted with a passion.

 

Once the passion takes hold, you can’t stop.  A woman writes until she wonders why, and sometime later, about the destination. For some publishing is the end game, for others, writing is mystical with great healing powers and gifts the soul endlessly, while others are still struggling with Mrs. Williams definitive rules on writing and don’t know where to start and get tangled up inside a maze of uncertainty and fear of outcome.  Don’t let this be you.  Put your hand on the keyboard, click your BIC, or dip your quill.  Don’t give way to your panic.  Let your mind do the writing.  Somewhere in middle of the beginning, you’ll know where you’re going. Should it take a while longer, remember what Ray Kinsella heard, said, and finally believed, If you build it he will come.  

Whatever brought you to the blank page continue to trust in your passion to write, you’ll get where you need to be.

 

What does your field of dreams look like?

 

Writing prompt:  Describe a treasure.

Photo courtesy of Caitlin Elisabeth

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by

I’m a writer and hoarder of one-size-fits-all panty hose. Until the hose fits over my bum, I write to provide an alternative view on writing and perfection.

43 thoughts on “Field of Dreams

  1. Jo

    This is so true and so well done. If you’ve read my blogs, they are mostly heartfelt and cleansing for me. I write what I feel, or have experienced, or think about. It isn’t something I usually plan, I sit and I write. Somethings write themselves and I am just the typist.
    Like your dad, I have conversations with God all the time. I have sort of written some of those. Using those, I have written, would be more accurate.
    My novels are just stories that developed as I sat at my computer and imagined being the characters I have created. They did write themselves with just a few pointers from me.
    Great thought provoking post. ♥

    • Jo – I am learning this about your writing. You do speak from the depths of your heart. I think I might agree with you about the writer sometimes being the typist and only a facilitator for the writing and the muse.

  2. I love this post, Brenda. Hearing how people started writing is always intriguing because while writers have a lot in common, sometimes how they got into the field is so unique. For me, writing was always a part of me. I just didn’t realize I could do it for a living until 2006 when I decided to go back to school for it. Once I really put myself out there (2009) I was thrown into the hell that is rejection, but when I got that first acceptance, it made up for all the tears–and I was only paid $2. LOL
    Now my field of dreams is full of novels with my name that will hopefully be published.

    • Hugs, Kelly, you always say just what my writer’ soul needs to hear. I wish there were no tears for you (or I) but I suspect this is part of the process. I am a huge believer in ‘if you build it…” I would love to miss ‘hell’ the rejection period. Two bucks, you were never richer than you were in that moment. You’re almost there, sweet girl. I can’t wait to buy the book.

  3. You’ve looked deep inside the souls of writers and you really get it.
    It doesn’t matter if we write well, have a particular method or style – it just matters that we write. We are all driven to fill the page.
    Another great read.

    • Maria – writing is such a person endevor. Why we do it, what we write, how we go about it, and where we are going is equally personal. I do feel the act of writing can make a diffrence in a peron’s life. If lost within life write it down until you find what you’re looking for.

  4. Sometimes your writing leaves me speechless because you have opened so many doors in my mind, all vying for attention. I was always a raveneous reader, I read to be someone else, but I never planned to write, really write. The tragic loss of my husband led me to my field of dreams where we could laugh and love again, and allow me to share with the thousands tortured by living with PTSD. Maybe they won’t make the mistakes I made. Writing has taken away the sting of the pain, and your beautiful words fill me with joy.

    • Nancy – I am honored and touched by your words. Writing for you is healer as well as a redefiner or maybe .. just maybe, your arrived where you always needed to be. It’s a wonder.

    • Nancy, I think about you often. My uncle suffered greatly after Nam. He was never quite the same when he came home. Now years later he is still .. different but there is an accepted peace within. My hope is for your story to be shared soon. Thank much for you wonderful support.

  5. When I think of a field of dreams, it’s large, sunny but not too warm, full of wavy grasses and flowers, butterflies, bees that buzz that don’t sting. A small creek runs through it, edged by a few trees, filled with birds.

    In the meadow is a big lacy white gazebo, with a desk centered inside, and a very comfortable chair, kind of Queen Anne looking, upholstered in “Legally Blonde” pink. I write at this desk, or sometimes I recline and read on the chaise, upholstered in matching pink. Or make love on said chaise, as the heroes I create come to life, bringing me pleasure and strawberries, and conveniently vanishing away without complaint when I want to get back to my writing.

    Now off to do my day job, which looks nothing like my field o’ dreams, but does keep me in strawberries.

  6. I agree with all of the above.

    Like Mrs. Williams said, no matter what we write, there is always a beginning, middle and an end. I like that idea. I think we can write about anything and make it beautiful. Thanks for your inspiration, Brenda! I enjoyed the story about your Dad!

    • Hi Linda… yes, there are always those parts in any story… Yes, Dad did wake up with a poem in his head and heart and continued writing. I appreciate your words and for stopping by. Many thanks.

  7. Brenda, you’ve captured the innermost thoughts of writers and put them out in the open for all to see and feel. Staring at a blank paper is scary but eventually, the words start taking shape in your head and you let your fingers tell your heart’s story.

    • Sulekha – I am so glad to have connected with you. Each of us has our own story, voice, but between us there pages unfolding. The story inside of us dances on the blank pages each time we sit down.

  8. Three years ago today I started a family project for Lent (and I am not overly religious) which I chronicled in my blog. So many family and friends enjoyed the journey with me and I got $350 for an article I wrote about the project in our local paper. It was the tipping point for me as writing went from past time to passion. I still can’t explain it (writing) properly to anyone…but you’ve eased my conscience of the necessity to do so! Wonderful post.

    • Astra – that is a wonderful kick off into writing. I so hope you purchased a nice bottle of wine. I’ve yet to earn enough to quit my day job, but I remain hopeful for the villa in Barcelona. I am truly a believer in the field of dreams. As for you and your hectic life and the writing. Honey, there is not explanation necessary, you write because it gives you joy.

  9. I started writing passionately in my teen years and have never looked back! Whether it was on scraps of paper left by the kids, napkins in a restaurant, or occasionally the back of my hand (!) I just had to get it down. Since I have been home the last few years this has gone from bad to worse. I love it!

    • Elizabeth – I like the idea of seeing you writing feverously on the backs of napkins and scarps of paper. It fits with the poet persona I have in my head. You’re gifted.

  10. ~~Brenda,
    -once I was asked why I write.
    I simply responded, “”I write to breathe.””

    Without the words, I believe I would have parished long ago.

    When I’m not writing physically, I’m writing inside my head!

    Beautifully expressed, Dear. You inspire. Xxx Many Kisses.

  11. Brenda, sister, you write more passionately about writing than anyone I’ve ever met. If any writer, or aspiring writer needs convincing, inspiration, purpose, motivation, or reason for writing, he or she has to take but one look at any of your posts about writing and feel a sense of deliverance. Beautifully written, friend.

    • Miss Bella, I do believe you made me blush. I do hope this is true because so many others, yourself included, inspire me all the time. I loved your’s and Monica’s prompt. I had fun writing my own little story in my head that lead to something else… Hugs, and many thanks. I’ve missed your words of support.

  12. Anna

    Have I told you that I love your writing? I do! Anyhow, love this post. Didn’t start writing (publicly) since cancer and haven’t stopped. Like you said, my mind is doing the writing…

  13. This was really neat, how you see different reasons for writing and different ways of doing it. Writing is not my passion. Music is my passion. I like to write and sometimes I NEED to write, but it’s mainly for myself. I realize now, after starting a blog and then losing enthusiasm for it, that writing is just more personal for me. I was the young journal writer, always needing to put my emotions and the events of my life, down on paper. I also like to explain things in writing–either thoughts or the why’s and how’s of something.

    You, my dear, are a gifted writer and I love your musings. Thank you for sharing them with us!

    • Thanks much, Michael, your kind words are greatly appreciated. We all have our reasons for writing, doodling or finding clarity. I hope you treat yourself to sexy journal and a good pen that flows smoothly over the page.

  14. Brenda, my mother gave me a diary when I was in sixth grade and I started there, but didn’t really fall in love with writing until high school when I took my first creative writing class. That opened up a whole new world for me, and I’d crank out short stories and poems. I loved that class.

    Thank you for making me remember. Lovely post!

    • Monica – I am so jealous you had a creative writing class in high school. I wish I had. I do believe it takes on moment to shape a person’s destiny or ignite a passion. As always, my pleasure to hear and learn about fellow writers. I swear, the comments are the best part of blogging.

  15. I love this post, Brenda. For me, it was the minute I first saw my grandfather’s old, antique typewriter. My dad used to use it to type fancy letters, and I saw it one day – I must have been about 6 years old. From the minute I put my first sheet of paper in the roller and started banging away, I was hooked.

    • Melissa, that’s a wonderful memory and start. I enjoy hearing how writer’s took their first steps. Personally, I am relieved I don’t have to write by hand or on a typewriter. My hand writing is questionable and I’d starve if I had to earn a living as a typist.

  16. Indeed, “Motivations for writing are endless and as unexplainable as love.” Beautifully put, Brenda. I’m not sure I can pinpoint the source of my passion for writing because it seems like it has always been a part of my life (I wrote my first “book” in the third grade). Perhaps Anais Nin said it best, “I write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospection.”

    • Becky..I hope your mom and dad had a book sighing party for you back then. I had not read this quote by Anais, but now that I know it, it’s an instant favorite. It sums of the feeling perfectly. Thanks kindly.

    • I’m glad, Roy. I do tend to flirt with passion in my writing. I think there is a little romance in most everything I write. You’re brave for coming back. Thanks much.

  17. I adore the story of your dad waking up after the removal of a brain tumor and demanding to write a poem because the good Lord had granted him a pardon. It reminds me of what Greg said (in my most recent post), because there’s “No sadder thing than for a man to go to his grave with his music still within.” How beautiful!
    I’m building my field of dreams for the same reasons stated in “The Music Within.”
    “Because writing is a form of contemplation and a form of prayer…
    “Because writing occasionally leads to rapture…
    “Because writing is a way to connect electrically and directly with other people, which we crave, while generally leaving privacy, which we also crave…”
    And most of all, ““Because like all human beings I have an innate drive to leave something shapely and permanent behind me, some marker of passage through the woods…I’d like to leave several books behind me so that someday my children will open and read them….
    Pardon the repeat, but these are the reasons I write.

    • Debra – you’re welcome to repeat, share prose, verse, sing even. I am always inspired by your words and posts. I don’t know that I’d agree with you that ALL want to leave something behind, or maybe the realization comes too late. Yep, that story of Dad’s is an interesting one. It’s on my list to write one day.

  18. Upon waking from a surgery, your father requested for a notebook. I’m beginning to understand more where your passionate self comes from, Brenda. That extremely focused passionate side of you. Your quote hits the highest note here: If you build it he will come.

    There was a period when I thought my field of dreams was getting published, but it really isn’t. It is writing a good story after another, and knowing that readers can nod along to the stories, or utter a gasp or feel heartache for the characters instead. Getting published is something that goes along with these, and still sweet, but not the pot of treasure itself. Which is why I want to keep writing. And writing. And writing. And am so glad I have your wonderfully poetic voice to cheer me on through posts like this.

    • Claudine, when you figure the rest of me out, you can share with me. :-) Although I am empathic about others sometimes I am not so sure about me. I know what you mean about the writing. The more I write the more I love it, the more I discover. It’s addicting.

  19. I never had any intention of becoming a writer and still don’t think of myself as
    one. But these ideas keep coming to me and so I write. It all seems to flow out of other events in my life, like leaving grad school or a child on the way (and so on), but I enjoy it and I hope someday maybe I’ll get noticed or something. That happens, doesn’t it? Perhaps if I did things the right way like a real writer, it’d be faster or easier, or not. I don’t know. But when the next idea or event strikes I’ll be writing!

    • Kyle, I don’t think there is a wrong or right way. The key (in my humble opinion) is to write and write and write. The more you write the better writer you become. Follow your heart. Thanks much for stopping by.

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