Silence is a space for something to happen
I've been quiet & want to stay that way, but before I go, I'm having one more Writing the Mother Wound Intensive on 12/17. Join me!
I spent the month of October at a monthlong writing residency in the Adirondacks. Just before I left, I was reading and writing about grief—the grief over losing my mother in June, the grief I’ve carried for years over our relationship, how different this grief is compared to when my brother died.
These lines have been on loop in my head since reading them in an NPR interview with Hanif Abdurraqib:
I believe that I should be a generous steward to my grief. If I tend generously to my grief then it treats me well in return.
That’s what I’ve been doing: being a generous steward to my grief, hoping it will treat me well. And I’ve been quiet..
In her Emmy acceptance speech Michaela Cole said:
I just wrote a little something, for writers, really…
Write the tale that scares you, that makes you feel uncertain, that isn't comfortable. I dare you. In a world that entices us to browse through the lives of others to help us better determine how we feel about ourselves, and to in turn feel the need to be constantly visible, for visibility these days seems to somehow equate to success—do not be afraid to disappear. From it. From us. For a while. And see what comes to you in the silence.”
I am listening. Silence is a space for something to happen.
I’ve been an avid social media person for years—often posting several times a day, on FB, Instagram, on occasion on Twitter. I’ve shared so much of my life, my writing journey, my joys and losses. Silence doesn’t come naturally to me. While I have become much of more of an introvert in middle age, I’ve stayed connected online. But even that has been too much for me these past few months. Grief has made me very quiet and introspective. I’ve been off social media for a while now, and it’s been months since I posted a newsletter. I’m going to remain quiet, but before I do so, I feel pulled by this want/need to facilitate one last Writing the Mother Wound Intensive in 2023.
(You can read more on the Mother Wound and how Writing the Mother Wound has become my life’s work here.)
The class, initially scheduled for December 3rd, is now happening on December 17th, 12-3pm ET. Note: This is the final WTMW class I’ll be facilitating for the foreseeable future. Details below.
In this class, we will:
read and examine how writers navigate and approach the mother wound in their prose and poetry;
use these writings as inspiration to write about our mother wounds;
work on freeing ourselves of the shame we carry over daring to want/need to write about our mothers and our relationships with them in a realistic light;
find community in our work and understand that despite how isolating this journey can be (as writers, as folks who navigate “not ideal” relationships with their mothers), we are not alone in it…
When: December 17th, 12pm-3pm ET
Where: Online via Zoom
How much: $75 (If you cannot afford this, I am offering a number of need-based, partial scholarships. Please send me an email for more information.)
For registration & inquiries: email writingourlivesworkshop@gmail.com.
To offer sponsorship or ask how you can support this work, please email writingourlivesworkshop@gmail.com. Thank you!