So I guess I'm in a memoir mindset right now. Maybe that's because another teacher at school asked me to be her "guest author" tomorrow to talk to her students before they try their hand at crafting a personal narrative. I'm flattered and a bit nervous, since I am still learning to see myself as a "real" writer.
In addition to that "speaking engagement" playing about in my mind, I also tripped down memory lane tonight when I sat down to write. I crafted something which raised a lot of raw emotion in me, and not at all a piece I want to share with these students--or anyone for that matter. I thought, when I sat down to write, that I had in mind a rather lofty and above it all memoir, stemming from a realization that I had in the car this afternoon regarding two of the boys I chased after in high school.
Instead, I wrote something that has me feeling a bit unbalanced. The fall always does interesting things to my heart memories. I am trying to ground myself in reality, here in my house with my husband on the other side of the writing room door: this is my world. I am so many physical and metaphorical miles away from the girl I once was, the girl who clawed to the surface tonight after my writing.
It leaves me wondering: when does a person obtain calm detachment regarding really tumultuous emotional memories? Perhaps, as I am starting to fear, the answer is never, and even as a writer, those memories must be approached gently and with extreme caution. But I want to write freely, of all my experiences, and I have never had much patience for things like tooth aches.