Monday, October 27, 2008

Thoughts about Writers, Quilters, and Pumpkin Carvers

A friend of mine is an artist. He is very talented; so much so that when he carved a 100 pound pumpkin Saturday, it was a work of art.

That got me thinking (and yes, I know that's a dangerous place to go!) how each of us finds a way to express our thoughts, emotions, and experiences in different ways. Dan can find beauty in a piece of metal or even a pumpkin. My mother creates the most beautiful quilts and uses the various patterns for the quilt, as well as the patterns and colors of the fabric to make warm, comforting works of art.

Since I was in grammar school, I have been able to sort through my thoughts best by putting them down on paper or by seeing them on the computer screen. Something in the writing process helps me organize my thoughts, my emotions, or even my experiences. One day my husband and I were doing some house maintenance - I don't even remember what we were doing - but as I was holding the ladder for him, my mind started organizing that mundane experience into how it could be written. How could I make it interesting for the reader? What would the lede be? And the conclusion? Should I add more color to the story? I never wrote that particular story, but it was the first time that I realized that I truly was a writer; that writing is my creative endeavor and how I express the things I see around me.

Since that moment, I've talked to many other writers who do the same thing.

My first published work was a short memorial piece about the loss of my first dog, a GSD named Watachie. He was a rescue but an awesome dog; a SAR dog who also had a UD with OTCH points, a carting dog, and a Frisbee champion. I lost him at the age of seven - far too young - and I expressed my overwhelming grief by writing about Watachie. The article was published in the GSD national club magazine. After it was published, I got letters from people telling me how much my work touched them. My first fan mail. It was at that time that I realized my work - my words - could touch people.

Liz

Liz Palika www.lizpalika.com

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Strange but deep sorrow seems to bring out the best in many of us who write - my first Maxwell was for poetry - my poem for Wiley my first Terv who died at just 8 yrs of age with hemangiosarcoma.
Deb E