Finding Voice

Super Wolf Blood Moon

“You have to treat it like a job!” That was not what I wanted to hear. But my friend, in her straight-forward way, knew that’s exactly what I needed to hear. I was slogging my way through abysmal despair, ready to give up on my book. The scathing critique from my fellow workshop participants from less than a week ago was still ringing in my ears and here is my friend insisting that with some serious restructuring and some smart formatting, I should have the result I need in about a week, and then on to the next step toward publication. She’s extremely optimistic.

Continuing with the project wasn’t even on my radar, but there must have been something lurking underneath that dark layer of depression, some irrational desire to see the dead brought back to life. Bartering with myself I settled on a timeline of six-months for finishing a revision, not unreasonable since I had already invested seven years into the project.

The workshop I had attended was offered at the Mayborn Literary Nonfiction Conference. It was only my second time to attend the Mayborn and an opening came available in a workshop for finished manuscripts. I jumped in, excited to be rubbing shoulders with other nonfiction writers and getting real feedback. But after days of unrelenting negative comments, I crawled over the finish line of that gauntlet by sheer willpower. Honestly, there was not one positive comment from anyone in the workshop. They definitely win the prize for the most unrestrained honesty in the history of critiquing. Kudos to the workshop facilitator who took pity and applied some healing salve to the wounds saying, “There’s a story there, but it needs a lot of work.”

As I thought over what my friend had said, I realized that it wasn’t just the writing that I needed to treat like a job, it was deeper than that, it was more about treating the development of the writer like a job. The “how to” is still coming to me.

Finding voice is an arduous and delicate quest. Voice, if it is authentic, echoes the inner most part of ourselves, and you can’t just cajole that kind of dialogue with yourself out into the open. No neon lights please…stick to the oblique gaze by candlelight. That’s what I’m working on.

When the New Year rolled around I saw it as an invitation to some serious inner work. When an opportunity came up for a two-week writing sabbatical at the beach, it was a no-brainer. For me, fierce winter weather on the coastline inspires like nothing else; brooding clouds, howling wind, grey turbulence crashing against the shore. The thing that sealed it for me was that the Super Wolf Blood Moon would take place while I was there, always a sucker for the serendipitous. This total lunar eclipse of the moon, the only one of 2019, and one of only three super moons of the year was flashing like a neon light of destiny.

A wild freedom engulfed me from the moment I arrived. On that first day the cold was bitter. I was feeling tribal and even primal so I wrapped the huge orange-fringed beach sarong I had brought with me high up on my head and walked straight toward the windy shoreline. An unending vanishing point stretched out in front of me and I followed it hard and then back again. Each day I was out on the beach at dawn, waiting for the sunrise. After writing, lots of writing, I was back on the beach at dusk to witness the last signs of light.

The beach corralled my energy into purpose and imparted an ability to imagine my self into being, forcing to the surface who I am when I’m alone.

On the night of the Super Wolf Blood Moon it was like the corralled energy inside of me spiked. I took my camera outside to the balcony and hung over as far as I could, getting the best shots of the moon as it transformed. Then returning back inside, I went to my worktable to create collages using moon images. It was like a moon dance that had something to do with a “woman who runs with wolves.” It was about that untamed part of me, free to create, free to get out from under the dominance of the left brain, that acceptable and logical part that tries to drown out those unexpected, illogical, beautiful and creative intrusions that spring up from just below the surface. My time at the beach was a good start toward getting back on track to finding my voice and an encouragement to not let too much time pass until the next encounter with the untamed part of me.

What do you need to help you find/expand your authentic voice?

Writing Prompt Word For the Week: Root