Writing saved my life.
I don’t mean my own writing, though when I got older I turned to it, too, for solace.
But other people’s writing, their stories bound together between stiff covers, reached out and pulled me into the safety of their black and white arms.
When there were no friends, when there were hardly even neighbors, when it got dark and scary, when I felt lost and alone…
Books were there–I wasn’t alone. Other people were right there with me. The author wrote for me, the characters were my travel mates and confidants. I could fall asleep to dream of adventure, of love, of dragons and of white knights.
Words, and the people who strung them together, gave me a place where I belonged, where no one judged me or chose me last. Where I felt like I really could be more than a kid on a rock in the desert with a book and badgers for company.
It’s still where I go for community, for understanding, for stimulation and retreat. Wordsmithing is what I do with my life, because I believe in the power of words to change lives. In books, in letters, in status updates and news stories. Words are immeasurably powerful, especially to a child.
I’m spending three days with a hundred different teenagers each day. Kids on the brink of failing their English exams. Kids who seem to look around, waiting for the next angry word, the next taunt, the next lash.
Kids who looked at me suspiciously when I said
Good job.
I want to help. I so want to impress on them the power of stories. Of their stories. Of words put together in such a way it makes your heart race. Of a way words can help them instead of flay them.
It reminds me of this one, singly important thing: your words matter. Don’t ever stop using them.
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Here’s a couple of quotes I think you’ll like, from ‘Improvising Real Life: personal story in playback theatre’, by Jo Salas: “We are, all of us, storytellers. Story is built into our way of thought. We need stories for our emotional health and our sense of place in the world. All our lives we seek opportunities to hear and tell them.” and “What is happening when we tell each other our stories? We start with the fundamental need to communicate something that has happened to us, something we have seen or experienced or realised. We sense that telling it to others may bring completion.”
Love them Jet, thanks!
After the events of yesterday, it’s wonderful you had books rather than access to a gun when others find it to be the other way round. It’s important that books and words were there for you and that you’re now working with kids to let them know that words are there for them too. A lovely blog but sad that things were so dark.
Thank you love. You serve as my inspiration to be a better person and give back to others.
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You still inspire me, sweetheart; every day since you were born. Your words are beautiful…and I can still picture that adorable little girl currled up with her latest book…a treasure she didn’t want to put down when it was time for bed. I remember your eyes lighting up when I would come home with a new Nancy Drew or as you got older, another one of whatever series you were in to. Books excited you more than most any other gift. I am proud of you every day and I am so incredibly happy that you are living your passion! xxooxxoo Mom
Thanks, mom. And thanks for always supporting my love of books, no matter how many I had on the shelf.
Thanks for the words, Vic. I haven’t had a chance to pop by and comment for a while. I’ve been following what you’re up to, and I keep thinking: “Damn. I’m going to invite myself over to Vic’s!”
Because you rock, you know.
Hey Andi! I read yours too, and don’t always comment, but it sounds like you’ve got some good stuff happening your way too. Invite yourself anytime.
Because you rock too, you know.
Beautifully written, as always
Can you hear me resonating?
Thanks, Yvonne. Resonation is a good thing indeed.
So beautiful – sending lots of good vibes to you and the kids!
I’m not a writer but I agree that words save lives – and as in my case right now, help get the ya-yas out. When I have people in my life who I think deserve an ass-kicking, for instance, I read a loud novel about a woman who does in fact kick ass and take names, and I sleep better. Heh.
Thanks MS! The kid thing was very cool and a great experience.
Lol. It really does help get the ya-yas out. And sometimes it helps us develop perspective too.
Hope things are well with you?
Thank you Ms Oldham, for doing that.
So many adults in positions of “authority” over kids forget what words mean to them. Kids take them literally because they aren’t old enough to “know” that one word or phrase can have more than one meaning, or that some things adults say aren’t “meant” to be taken literally.
At least, that’s what they tell others who call them out for saying things like “Why are you so stupid? Why can’t you learn this?” Invariably, they’ll defend themselves with “Fercrissake! It’s just an expression, he knows I don’t mean it.” (WRONG)
Kids do not know that adults “don’t mean it” Especially when the adults are parents. They also forget, if they ever cared in the first place, that kids watch them. What actions follow what words? Humans are creatures of habit, even when they are unaware that much of what they do follows patterns they have set for themselves.
Some kids learn to watch and listen. Listen closely. Watch closely. It’s sometimes a matter of survival. It’s the little bits the adults don’t think about that give them away. That “telegraph” their intentions.
There are too few adults who are willing to interact with kids while remembering what it was like to be a kid in an “adult” world that’s largely indifferent to their existence unless they’re screwing up.
The right words, the right actions, make a huge difference. Thank you for remembering that.
It’s so true, Edward. I worked with some great teachers over the three days, who were really willing to try something new. But a few of them got frustrated, and yelled, and became unapproachable. And so I made an extra effort to let these kids know that no matter who else was there, I was there to help.
Do you blog, Edward?
Hello:
No, I haven’t created a blog yet because I don’t feel I have the time to do it right. My wife, and the serious writers I know, maintain their blogs as assiduously as any prize-winning gardener. It doesn’t help that I’m not a particularly well organized person.
I did contribute a regular weekly column to my wife’s blog after I had posted a piece to our writers board about Henry VIII and his (mostly) hapless wives. They found it so entertaining I was prevailed upon to start from the beginning and cover the entire subject. A very interesting fellow, Henry was, though not half as interesting as his daughter, Elizabeth. Or some of his wives, for that matter.
They really do get short shrift in most history books. Anne Boleyn in particular. She was a deeply ambitious woman, but people today don’t realize that she was very much a woman of her time. She did what she did for her entire family, not just herself. it was never “All about Anne” They also tend to overlook her intelligence, talent, and the sheer balls it took to play consort to a man like Henry while simultaneously keeping him at arms length for years. And she did it all with such style and panache. She also had the political instincts of a Chicago ward boss. An amazing woman.
Um….anyway, no, I don’t have a blog.
I think, Edward, that you have a lot of things to say, and you could do a blog real justice. There is no ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ way to do it. Whether you do it occasionally, haphazardly, etc, it’s your thoughts on things. When I started, I would read other people’s blogs, and then let them know I answered in my own blog, such did their words inspire me to think about the topic.
You have a lot to say, and I think you should have a forum for folks (like me) to join into your conversation.
this is beautiful, victoria. and i can really relate to your feeling of the power of words. and yes, reading others’ words in something that i have appreciated for many years. but, it has been just in the past few years that i have begun to understand that i truly can give back through my own words (before i thought my words were not worthy, or lofty, or as beautiful).
i am so thankful for your words, your writing. thank you for being an inspiration!
Hi Liz,
I love reading your words–they’re always so direct, so lovely and atmospheric. And your pics are gorgeous too. I’m grateful for the blog community giving us all a chance to share and revel in one another’s words.