Copyright Ruth Lampert 2012
The following blog was written several months ago but……
To my multitude of fans: well, maybe not exactly “multitude;” maybe “numerous” is more like it…or…well, anyway, to my brother Bob and my nephew Bill who nag me when I fall behind my blogdom schedule: Thank you. Nothing beats having “steady readers” as an incentive to greater output. (I was about to say “regularity” but that sounded a bit too clinical, as though I were going to write about my colon problems, which I would really like to, but don’t worry, I will control the urge…oh dear…anyway: )
For those of you who, like Bob and Bill, notice when the expected blog does not appear, I say thanks for getting me back on track. This is where I left off:
“Any idiot can face a crisis; it is this day-to-day living that wears you out.”
Anton Chekhov
And so it is with blogs. And memoirs. And blogs that are precursors to memoirs. (Such as “Ruthonwry,” in case you are new to this blog/precursor.)
Those exciting events of the past, those memories of crises
resolved, of traumas survived, and so on, they too can be viewed backwards, and written about relatively easily. But who wants to read about “day-to-day humdrum living” of the past, unless penned (or keyboarded, to be era-accurate) by someone with the talent of a Mark Twain or Frank McCourt, may they both rest in peace?
I think that the motivation to write in general and to write memoirs and blogs in particular is the wish/craving to be heard. I wonder if being the youngest in the family has anything to do with that?
And does that have anything to do with Betsy and I having the reputation of talking a lot, and even, in the opinion of some who shall remain nameless, too much? Both of us youngest children, waiting for our turn to talk, and by God, now it is our turn. Or mine, anyway. Heh heh heh.
But back to writing, which Betsy has eschewed, although I think she has the talent for it. Her brother Brian, the only boy in our family of four children, does some and does it well. . But I digress. (It’s my blog, I can digress if I want to.)
Where was I? Oh yes, re “day to day humdrum living: last year’s blog “The Corn Flake Cure,” captured, (nicely, I think in all modesty -- or in all self-aggrandizement) the kind of childhood memory that evokes similar memories in the reader. Or if not similar memories, perhaps a wistful sense of nostalgia, of having been there, or somewhere like that, in some sort of way, sometime.
And fortunately for my non-terminal case of writer’s block, book reviews remain staples; even more fortunately for me, I have been invited to write one of ”Castle Burning” by Magda Denes. Molly Rawle, co-editor of “The Gestalt Journal” recommended this beautiful book to me several years ago. I really loved it – no mere cliché – and planned to choose it when my turn next came around in the book club I have belonged to for over 20 years. Somehow I forgot, and the volume itself got misplaced. I came across it recently, re-reread it, re-loved it, and Molly asked me to write a review of it. Which I will do just the very second I get fully past this current bout of procrastination. Thank you for staying with me. |
