Well, it's been a while since I have written any posts on this blog. There are several reasons for that. No time, that's the first reason. I work and work and work..and when I get a minute when I think I will write, Sammy is on the computer where this blog is bookmarked. The second reason is probably because I don't always think I have anything of importance to say. I guess I must think that words...written words.. shouldn't be wasted. Who would read this? That is another whole mess.... There is a conflict within me that I can't resolve. Something that really interferes with my writing. The conflict is: what if what I write is ridiculed? it's thought of as nonsense...silly...of no worth. And then the immediate thought from there is...What If No One Reads It??? No One....Reads...my thoughts, concerns. Then that -in my mind- makes me unworthy. There you go, back to the awful self esteem that has haunted me my whole life.
My Mother wrote a novel. Novel. 7 volumes of 3-ring notebooks (the 3" deep kind). 7...s-e-v-e-n of them. It took about a week to read each one. She researched and wrote over a period of 45 years. We called it "the Karl book" for the lack of a better working title I guess. As far as I know she started it as a story (novel or autobiography..I'm not sure) about the portrait artist Karl Anderson who lived in my home town in his youth. He grew up to be a famous painter who specialized in portraits. Some of his paintings can still be found by Google-ing his name.
Karl was the oldest of the 5 boys and 2 girls in the family. One of his brothers was Sherwood Anderson who became a well known author. Sherwood's book, "Winesburg, Ohio" was based on my home town of Clyde.
Interestingly enough, Sherwood knew Gertrude Stein, and introduced her to Ernest Hemmingway (who he also found a publisher for). Sherwood often communicated with Georgia O'Keefe, and her husband (I'm going to spell this wrong..) Steigleits.. Over and over in the book, Mom wrote about contemporaries to Sherwood and Karl in the literary and art world ...who I studied in Art History at college. John Sloan, Henri, Dove, and others.
Where does all of this lead me? I don't know.
There were times when I read Mom's book...and could hear her voice as she would read to my dad. This was important to her. She loved the story and felt it should..somehow..be told. But she also loved the mystery and the research. I can't even begin to explain the number of letters she wrote to find out just one piece of information. All of this was done before computers. I think there were very few phone calls, remember that Long Distance was more expensive than local calls.
Is the need to write in all of us? ...I don't know. But I think I need to write more. I need to find a topic or a story to work on, develop...become passionate about.
I am....my Mother's Daughter.
