“Write what disturbs you, what you fear, what you have not been willing to speak about. Be willing to be split open.”
That’s a quote from Natalie Goldberg author of Writing Down the Bones: Freeing the Writer Within.
I know the beauty that comes from writing what you fear because it makes the words on the page real. They jump out at you and draw you in, give you better insight into the human experience.
Still, sometimes, I’m scared to write what I fear most because I’m afraid of writing it into existence. That might sound woo-woo, but I’m a big believer in being mindful about what we put out into the universe. As a reader, I don’t shy away from hard topics and, as a writer, I’ve never been one to back away from dark subjects. But when I write dark, I don’t write dark to write dark. I usually write from this perspective to gain a deeper understanding of something I don’t know.
But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t scare me, especially since I have to spend a lot of time in the worlds I create. Sometimes, I’m afraid that what I write will spill off the page and become a part of my existence.
Why am I telling you this?
Well, this week has been a difficult week for my family. My dad has dementia and over the last couple of years, it has gotten to the point where he’s a danger to himself and my mom. Most times he doesn’t know her and becomes combative, verbally and physically. This week, we’ve had to find him a memory care facility because it’s the safest option for everyone and he’ll get the support he needs. The care center he’s going to is wonderful and is very similar to my parents’ house. We’re fortunate to have this option because I know so many aren’t as fortunate.
I’ve done a lot of reflecting this week and, really, over the last couple of years and, although I know I didn’t write my father’s dementia into existence, I can’t help but think of the relationship between Emily and Lizzie and their mother, Emmeline, who has dementia, in 60 Days (Missing Girl Series – Book One). I started writing this story in the summer of 2014 long before I learned of my dad’s diagnosis. By the time the book was published, I was told my dad had dementia, and I couldn’t help but wonder: Did I write this into existence? So much of what I wrote in 60 Days, how Emmeline responds to her daughters and to the world around, is eerily similar to my dad’s situation.
Deep down, I know I wrote nothing into existence, but it feels that way sometimes. Dealing with a parent with dementia is brutal, and I’m not even on the front line. My mom is. She’s had to live with a man she’s been married to for almost 50 years since she was 19, who thinks she’s the cleaning lady.
My dad’s dementia has been a strain on my mom and mine’s relationship because we don’t always see eye to eye. Why am I telling you this? Well, it’s to explain what I want to share with you today. My next book is Lost Women, and if you’ve seen my blurb on Goodreads you know it’s about three women who are part of a week-long hiking retreat in the middle of Missouri’s Ozark Mountains each trying to sort out their lives after they’ve gone a direction they never imagined them going. Winnie is one of these women, and her experience mirrors my mom’s loosely. I chose to write from Winnie’s perspective as a way to understand my mom’s situation better. Today, I’d like to share an excerpt of Lost Women with you I wrote several months ago. Please note, this is not edited. It’s raw and may read differently in the final publication (which is looking more and more like 2022), but I feel drawn to share it with you now.
My mom isn’t going hiking through the woods and she’s not going to heal quickly from the trauma she’s gone through losing a relationship because of dementia. None of us are, but I wrote these words because I needed to. I hope you enjoy the excerpt and thank you for letting me be vulnerable with you.
Piper
This post was originally shared with my reader’s group. If you’d like to be part of the group, click the image below.
