Writing my Life: Excerpted from Upcoming Talk
Monday, February 9, 2009
I am held into place by the world in which I live. My continuity is my neighborhood, the streets I walk, the stretch of fabled road between my own house and my parents’. I am tethered here by the slow simmer of a passion that began in 1973, when I moved with my family to a house on a bend. When I began to walk and drive, with them, the roads that would always mark me as a writer. I’ve written memoir. I’ve written poetry. I’ve written fable. I’ve written short stories. I’ve written novels. I’ve written history. Everything I’ve languaged is touched by the trees that leafed and the trees that were felled, by the bales of hay and the frozen pond, by the flower that wouldn’t bloom and the garden that did, by the fox that arrives and the deer that departs, by the crow that threatens and the hawk that stays, by the ribbon of asphalt that carries me home.
— from "Writing my Life," Tredyffrin Public Library Grand Opening, Tuesday, February 10, 7:30 PM
4 comments:
This made me think of Elizabeth Goudge's autobiography that begins with thankfulness for the beautiful places she had lived in. I'll have to pull it out again and read once more how those places wove their way through her stories.
Place is so important. Place is an important piece of the puzzle of our lives that our fast-paced lives tend to discard/disregard so easily.
I want to be hear your talk. Do you hear the whine? All the best to you tomorrow, Beth. Your listeners will be very blessed.
I was hoping to go to your talk tomorrow, but my hubby's book club is meeting so I am at home with the midgets! FYI - he is a book collector...I read ;-) It's a good pairing, if only he collected something I wanted to read.
Sherry, you contribute knowledge of books I do not know; thank you for that. Place is huge in my work—whether I am writing about El Salvador, a garden, Seville, or home. Always the essential other character.
And Sierra, it would have been wonderful to meet you. But what a funny note here. A book collector who has yet to capture the right prize for his reading/writing wife. He will soon; I'm sure of it.
You're making me miss my home! Beautiful words, Beth, beautiful words.
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