Nana Has a Writing Revelation

I haven’t had much to write about lately. My reclusive, retired life hasn’t given me much fodder for writing. What I have done is read several books by writers on writing. I enjoy reading about how other writers do it. What inspires them? How often do they write? Where do they write? There’s so much I want to know about how to write.

Advice that is often given is just to write every day. I suppose that’s good advice because sometimes I can find a nugget of worthwhile prose in a page of drivel. Occasionally an idea in my daily jottings turns into a longer piece, but what I have now is several notebooks of random observations and mundane thoughts.

I just finished reading A Broom of One’s Own: Words on Writing, Housecleaning and Life by Nancy Peacock. The author is a writer whose first book was selected by the New York Times as a Notable Book of the Year. Prior to publishing her first book, she dreamed of the day she would be published and her life would change. She could give up her day job as a house cleaner and spend her days writing. Then she was published and nothing changed. After the first whirlwind book tour she still had to pay her bills, so she went back to cleaning houses and writing in her spare time. Sometimes she even found copies of the books she had written on the shelves in the houses that she cleaned. She kept writing because she had to.

Since I’ve retired and started writing more, I find myself thinking about writing all the time. I write myself to sleep at night, working out just the right way to phrase a sentence. On my few excursions out of the house I’m thrilled if something out of the ordinary happens or I see something interesting…like the house on the corner of 11th and Hermiston Avenue. It has been painted pepto bismol pink, everything, the door the trim, one giant pepto pink house…what’s up with that? There’s got to be a story there. When I substituted at the high school last week a student asked me “Did you write about us in your blog?” I understand why Nancy Peacock kept writing. I feel the same way. I have to write.

What has been difficult lately has been actually getting the writing out of my head and into the computer. I had an ah-ha moment when I realized that I was reading all the books about writing to delay the actual process of writing. For me it was a new form of procrastination.

So today I am grateful for writing. It helps me process my thoughts and sometimes gives me insight. But most of all, I write because I like to. I write because I have to. I write because I am a writer.

Good Reading, Good Writing

I attended a reading by my favorite author, David Sedaris, on Tuesday night. This is the second year that my daughter and I have heard him read in Austin, Texas. We’ve already made plans to attend again next year. It was such an enjoyable evening. He read several selections that were familiar from his books, but he also gave us a preview of his new book which will be published next October.


I especially enjoyed when he read selections from his diary. It gave me a glimpse into where he gets his inspiration for his writing. His ability to see the humor in everyday situations is a gift.

At last year’s performance he read an unfinished piece about airline travel. This year he read the completed story. I will never pass gas on the move again without thinking about “crop dusting.”

The following is a snippet from my favorite Sedaris book. Every time I read it I laugh out loud.

On my fifth trip to France I limited myself to the words and phrases that people actually use. From the dog owners I learned "Lie down," "Shut up," and "Who shit on this carpet?" The couple across the road taught me to ask questions correctly, and the grocer taught me to count. Things began to come together, and I went from speaking like an evil baby to speaking like a hillbilly. "Is thems the thoughts of cows?" I'd ask the butcher, pointing to the calves' brains displayed in the front window. "I want me some lamb chop with handles on 'em."

— David Sedaris (Me Talk Pretty One Day)

He signed my copy of Me Talk Pretty One Day on Tuesday.

Good writing, good reading…damn life is good!

The Right Words

Words are important to me. There's such a feeling of satisfaction when I can find exactly the right words to convey my thoughts or feelings. I've enjoyed finding a few blogs with excellent writing. I, of course, compare my pitiful efforts to the blogs I read. I learn a lot reading others and I'm expanding my vocabulary. Here in eastern Oregon we don't use a lot of ten dollar words.

This next week I'm going to visit my granddaughters in Texas. They know how to use language in inventive and evocative ways. Hunter, who is 2, sometimes gets frustrated when she isn't able to adequately express herself with words and will resort to typical toddler behavior and scream. Using language creatively her four year old sister commented, "She's making my ears cranky." Now in our family when a noise, or Hunter, is loud and irritating we say that our ears are cranky. I love language…and the granddaughters!

Life is good.