I haven't published on Strange Light as often as I like. I have around 50 articles in various stages. Obviously, I need to buckle down and finish them. I had made a choice a few month ago that I must put things in the right order in my life. Kerry, I decided, must come first among all things. If she needs my help in anyway, help in school, help in unwinding, cuddle therapy -- I will be there for her. We were going to spend a few hours together this week. That became two very full days. And they were a fun -- wonderful few days. I made the right choice.
Yet I decided I should not start anything new. I would polish a article every day or two and publish that. HA! There was a story in my head and it had to get out. Writing is the door. I had hit upon the idea of "Sorry about your Crappy Childhood" week for Strange Light. I can't recall how that popped into my head. It might have been the idea of "Winter" by Tori Amos. It is about the relationship between her and her father. That triggered the idea of the real Alice in Alice and Wonderland and the real Christopher Robin in Pooh.
I was shocked to find how much Christopher Robin hated the Pooh stories. At the time, I wrote a song from his point of view and called it "I Never Was that Dream." As I began to find the angle for this article, I kept painting him as an ungrateful son who was pissing on his dad's work. It didn't feel right. It didn't feel humane. Perhaps I was recalling that lost song of mine. I had to see it from his point of view, yet I couldn't betray the author of Pooh either. I always think "what the subject would think if they read it." Once I made that choice (seeing both points of view as valid) the writing became easy. It flowed quickly with me seeming just to be taking dictation from somewhere.
After I finished writing, I still felt something was missing. It is then I added my favorite part. When I wrote "It is sad that A. A. Milne was a really crappy dad. A man who dreamed on paper. But on paper A. A. was a endlessly curious child, a..." that whole bit about me saying what each Pooh character is to me, just made me smile. I think it gave the work heart and a real life. The last line, as always, I worked on a lot to make it just so. It was Kerry's college class on Critical Writing that reminded me of the importance of a compelling last line. And Tom Harper reading the first line from books at Garrison Keillor's bookstore, that reminded me how important that was.
How the process works, just listening to my inner monologue and writing that down came from reading Jill Sobule's journals. She is to me what Woody Guthrie was to Bob Dylan. She is a path to myself. Only in reading her, did I understand that it was okay to not force it, just let it go and enjoy. I understand A. A. Milne's playground. Writing can be a ride that is better than anything at Disneyland. Christopher Robin later in life became a writer. I suspect he began to understand why his dad was playing like a child even at fifty. On his white paper world, waiting to be explored, A. A. was finally a happy lad.
No comments:
Post a Comment