Nathan Bransford recently wrote a post on Writing as Catharsis and from the moment I read it, with everything that's been happening, I can't stop thinking about it. I am an author who pulls a lot for my stories from my life. I don't use my writing to cope, necessarily, but in times of crisis, I do pour my emotions into my stories. Some people are talented enough to write about difficult, strong emotions without having experienced them. I can't judge my ability to do that, but I believe I possess a good enough range to pass. That said, I have traveled a difficult road in life and I have much to draw on. Now, I'm not saying that I've had the worst life in the history of life - each person's experience is different and we all face and cope with difficulties as they are presented to us. My honest assessment is that the road I'm on makes me stronger. I am a fighter. I am a survivor. And I take everything as a life lesson, which makes everything open to reinterpretation in my writing.
Readers of my blog are aware of my health issues and my feelings about my cats, but I've kept the rest of my life private. Those who know me personally know what I've gone through, but only those closest to me know everything. And while I'm not a particularly private person, I don't see the need to expose my life for all to see, which would not only put me on display, but also affect other people involved - whether directly or indirectly. It should suffice to know that like many people, I've been hurt and I've recovered to be a better person. I further believe that the hurt makes me a better writer. Not a writer better than someone else, just stronger in my own right. There are no comparisons here.
Backing up to "Writing as Catharsis" for a moment, I did find it helpful to turn my grief into something tangible when David died. Again, there are people out there who will say, "He was just a cat," but he wasn't. He was my best friend. He was always with me. When I left for work, he walked me to the door and when I came home, he was there to greet me. He was my constant companion. If he didn't have my attention, he would throw temper tantrums or glare at the person who had my attention. His passing left a huge void in my life and I took it very, very hard. When I lost him, I lost my best friend - not my cat and not just a member of my family. He could have been human. That is how much it affected me.
The left side of this blog's main page contains pictures, starting with memorial photos (there is a bigger mosaic picture of my cats at the bottom of the blog). The first photo is of David and you can easily note that he died around Christmas. The sudden and rough loss, combined with the most joyous season created a sense of utter devastation. I cried and cried, and cried even more. It's amazing how even when I felt cried out, the tears kept coming in endless supply. The reason I'm focusing on this? Well, first, Neko's recent passing has opened old wounds. As I said in her memorial post, she was my last link to David. But mostly, it's because I did use my writing to cope with David's passing. I turned my tears into words and spent nearly every moment of grief writing scenes in my head, on toilet paper, on napkins, on scratch paper - on anything at all that could hold my thoughts. The result was a scene with powerful emotion, a scene that would have felt flat or empty had I not experienced such pain first hand. The coincidence that I was writing a scene of devastating loss became a horrible situation's silver lining, and now, every time I read that scene, I don't remember my grief - I remember David and give him the credit for the words I see on the page.
Now, unfortunately, I find myself in a writing lull. My focus is on the first manuscript and prepping individualized query letters. I am researching agents and working on my one page synopsis while awaiting a response from the few queries I have out (I'm old fashioned and only do a few at a time). MS #2 is written and ready for the edit and rewrite portion. It contains "David's scene." MS #3 is still in progress, but no scenes yet exist where I can turn my present grief into words. There will be one in later chapters, so maybe I will look ahead and jot down notes, as I did before. But, overall, I don't have the same outlet for Neko as I did with David.
So, as for "Writing as Catharsis," I don't find comfort in my writing. But, I do find comfort in just writing. After all, I've written a memorial post for Neko. Sure I cried while I wrote it, but I also enjoyed replaying her quirks and her personality in my mind, and I loved posting pictures that showed her fun side. I've written a post about my prologue and uncertainties in some of my decisions. And I chose to write this post, furthering a discussion started by Nathan Bransford while also displaying my own vulnerabilities.
I do find writing to be cathartic. For me, writing is a way of sharing my emotions - sharing my life in a subtle way - with people I know and people I don't know. It's a way to release the energy that builds with grief or pain. It is a way to remember the pain and still move forward, and what is more cathartic than moving forward? Standing still to wallow and allowing the pain to consume me isn't healthy or productive, even though it may be the easy way. Life isn't easy. If it was, we would never move. We would never grow. We would never develop. If life was easy, it wouldn't be life and a word like "catharsis" wouldn't exist.
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