Y is for Yawp; An Alphabetical Compilation of Words Worth Shouting
It’s time to put this work out into the world.
My debut book.
The first time my writing and artwork are together in print.
It’s not how I pictured it would be.
When I was young, I often dreamt of seeing my name on a book on a shelf. Spending time in the library, I sometimes I dared to think how it might feel to see the letters of my name embossed on the spine. Breathing in the smell of old paper and dust, running my feet along the carpeted floor, I’d wander up and down the isles…dreaming; wondering what I’d fill pages with that might bring readers to different places when they cracked the cover open. It was one of my favorite things to do; feel the different shapes and thicknesses of the books beneath my fingertips, pull one out to take in the texture of the cover and note how the design of the images and words danced together. I loved the thick deckled edges the best.
Library days were ones I looked forward to as a student; almost as much as art class or going to the gym. I’d easily escape the crowd of kids to become lost in a solitary search for the next book I’d borrow for the week.
I rarely had a plan or a particular favorite; what I liked most was the process of wandering and letting a book find me.
Sometimes it was a topic, like race car drivers. Other times it was the sheer size and age of a book; like a big fat dictionary (which we were never allowed to borrow ) but I enjoyed hefting it down off the pedestal and sprawling out on the floor flipping through the thin papery pages pretending to be on a safari through different words I’d not heard before trying them out in my mouth like rare animals I’d glimpsed on my adventure.)
In truth, becoming an author wasn’t something I aspired to. Writing was always hard work. It wasn’t a pleasant experience for me as a student. I struggled to compose cohesive stories with a beginning middle and an end. Structure was an elusive thing for me. The ideas in my creative mind were like an unruly circus menagerie. Vivid, full of life and energy in my mind, yet bland and flat on a page. I rarely had the patience to sit with an idea long enough to tame it in a way that might make it clear to anyone else. I often ended up in tears when trying to compose my weekly “weekend stories” whether it be a simple recounting of the events from my Saturday or Sunday or a fictional story related to a magazine picture I selected from the huge file our teacher had to prompt weekly writing practice.
Bless my mother. Her patience and efforts to help were most often met with angry criticisms from me as I agonized over choosing just the right word to match an emotion I wanted to convey or create a scene that matched the animated one in my mind. I always fell short and exhausted myself in the process; which more often than not ended with a dramatic shredding of paper after the umpteenth erasure tore through the page and me stomping off in a frustrated rage. Spelling and grammar were lowest on my priority list as a writer yet they were front and center for my writing teachers. The proverbial “red pen” was real and further turned me off to embracing writing as anything I might aspire to in my future. It DID contribute to my motivation to become a teacher, however. Failing my college placement exam in English seemed to drive home my lack of skill as a writer and sealed my confidence in myself or any ability I may have had at an all time low.
I persevered, though, making it through to freshman english composition in my “sophomore” year; even after receiving an F- on my first “paper”. I mean really….when I look back on it now, I chuckle at the absurdity of it all. What was the purpose of a “minus”? As if a big red letter F for Failure scrawled on the top of words I agonized over composing wasn’t clear enough? I didn’t really learn to become a better writer in college. What I learned to do was play the game. I learned I could follow directions and models and it was easier to regurgitate thinking in writing this way.
Creative writing was something I fell in love with after I became a teacher. I can remember the time clearly….author, Paul Janeczko was a poet in residence in my 4th grade classroom and on his weekly visits he’d fill the room with the bubbly possibilities of playfulness with words that made us all feel like we were in a Coke bottle of Creativity! One time he walked around with a big jar of words all cut up on tiny pieces of paper. He’d reach his hand in and smiling, dump a small clump onto the desk of each student. He’d encourage them to sort through them and dig around for inspiration like a pig in the mud. He’d gleefully take phrases and lines up onto the board and play round with them finding joy in arrangements and images that popped up as a result.
The power he instilled in us as writers was magnificent! (and lasting) It’s this sense of playfulness in composition that stuck with me throughout years as a writer and one I took delight in kindling with students in my future years as a writing teacher. Sharing my passion for playing with words is one of my fondest memories in teaching; second only to highly dramatic daily read alouds.
As life progressed, I began to use writing as a personal tool to help manage emotions and feelings that I became overwhelmed by. The process that once frustrated me as a child, slowed down the racing thoughts in my mind just enough to try to capture them onto a page. This poem I wrote using a selection of words from page 183 (randomly torn out of Volume I of the Selected Journals of L.M. Montgomery.) does much to capture the transformation of my writing process from the days or tears and frustration as an 8 year old.
This blog is a welcome place to share my words. Sending them out into the world is scary. ANTS (automatic negative thoughts) try to trample over my hopes and deflate my fledgling confidence. They chatter on with messages about how my book isn’t really a book because it’s “self published”. They amplify fears that it looks childish and not professional because I didn’t hire an editor. There are likely mistakes and the ANTS love those the most. Each one waved around like flags of proof that I’m not a “real” writer yet and this isn’t a “real” book. I can fill up pages with self criticisms focusing on all the imperfections in this particular edition of my writing. In fact, I “published” this book over a year ago and have been “sitting” with it focusing on those critiques and trying to “fix” them.
Putting my words out there is exciting, too. Seeing poems in print. Words from my mind, flowing through my fingers onto pages in cohesive clumps conveying an emotion or capturing a moment so others can see it the way it felt in my body or looked through my eyes. It’s a fantastic feeling. The energy that is transferred is like a circuit being completed. It’s palpable the feeling of happiness and joy that comes from people reading the poems or writing I share, and taking the time to follow up sharing how my words resonated with them in some way or explain something that my writing inspired in them. It’s quite euphoric.
Writing is also cathartic. it’s a relief to let words go and see them fly away from myself. Each one lifting a weight I’ve carried silently making my steps through the days lighter. Leaving more space to let love and beauty live.
If this blog post resonated with you or you’d like to share your own journey with writing, please visit me over on Instagram and send me a DM or reach out through e-mail found in the contact section of this site.
A special thank you to my mom, who withstood years of rebuke and emotional outbursts and never flagged in efforts to help me grow as a writer. Her undying support and love prompted me to persevere and put my words and artwork out there in a book. She remains my biggest supporter and fan.
I’d also like to acknowledge Kelly May-Krentz; who sponsored the Instagram challenge where I created a flat lay for each chosen word. It’s was a fun way to be creative every day and I enjoyed joining in this daily creative community experience.
I’m also very grateful to Krista Barmer of The Mending Space who has authored many beautiful books. Her heartfelt writing and stitching resonate deeply with me. I was captivated by the process she made public while publishing her own books. I am grateful to her openness and time in sharing her publishing process with me when I reached out to inquire about using Blurb as a publishing platform. Her encouragement and support remain inspirational.
