Some of my earliest memories are not of the world in which I lived, but of the more-than-real world in my head, painted there in vivid, wild and everlasting color, by other people’s words. The heartbreak and elation, despair and laughter, weakness and courage, of the characters that walked that world, were mine as well.
Writing was my second love.
The hypnotic, rhythmic cadence of poetry written by that Grand Old Lady of my childhood, Mother Goose, first caught and held my fancy, and I began to write my own verse. Since that time I’ve written poetry, children’s plays, songs and essays.
Two years ago, I began to write a novel.
Writing, for me, is a circular endeavor. What I mean is this: It fascinates me how writing and life have a cause and effect relationship. On one hand, I live my life and then use writing to describe my experiences to others. In this case, life is the cause, writing the effect. On the other hand, I write my plans and dreams down on paper and that writing, in its turn, forms my life. In this case, writing is the cause and life is the effect.
In the same way, when I feel things and write them down to analyze or explain them, life causes writing. On the flip side, my writing can sometimes bring on feelings or motivate changes in others, and in that way, writing causes life.
There’s continuity to writing, a kind of yin and yang, where one completes the other, and a beauty in it that reaches toward a spiritual truth.
Writing is both an escape from life, and an invitation to dive, unshielded, into it. It is an extension of my feelings, a way to reveal myself to the world, and in turn, to reason and make sense of that world as it reveals itself to me with all its tragedy and beauty.
Writing is joy: a way for me to connect by words to God’s creation, as I believe God connects to us, and even spoke the very world into existence with His word.
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Articles written by Claudine for Necessary Writers: