At the beginning of 2012, I started writing again after taking a 30 year sabbatical to raise nine children on a hobby farm.
I closeted myself in a room to sit down and write and then I froze. Although I considered writing to be a solitary craft, looking at a blank screen or talking into thin air was a sterile exercise in futility for me. I could not translate the same creative energy that I experienced telling a story verbally to the keyboard. My intuitive, imaginative side stayed buried and my logical intellect wrote boring mummy drivel.
Blogging has helped melt my prison of isolation because now I am not writing to a wall, now I am writing to real people who respond, offer encouragement and helpful tips.
Does interaction with other writers mean that I need public applause to function? No, I think the need to interact with writers and readers arises from the fact that I am a social being who learns from other people. My dark fears, which froze any writing skills that I retained for 32 years, are slowly melting as light and truth shine through other websites that have published some of my articles and poems. I am slowly starting to feel legitimate, an equal to other so-called writers. I am writing better, well most of the time, because I have given my creative side the permission to rise up and speak.
For me, the joy mothering has been my call, my vocation and my silent witness to the world for 32 years. Now writing is becoming the method of expressing that vocation to a world that has largely forgotten the wisdom of mothers and more importantly, the wisdom of children.
As I start considering using word prompts posted on WordPress to challenge me, I sense that even more doors are about to creak open. There are hundreds of stories still waiting to be told, hiding in my subconscious. It is often theses word prompts that shine light on a forgotten memory and trigger yet another story.