The Olsen quote about raising children and working and that "...the simplest circumstance of creation did not exist.” resonated. That is an ever present struggle and the contemplation of my Substack next week. Thank you for taking up the unnatural silences that thwart. I wrestle daily with Clarissa Pinkola Estes's insistence, "A woman must be careful to not allow over-responsibility (over-respectability) to steal her necessary creative rest, riffs, and raptures...Art is not meant to be created in stolen moments only." (Women Who Run With the Wolves) And I love these wise, reminding words from this from you, “She has shown us a mind at work, a mind working through. And that, too, is life. That, too, is literature.”
You are so widely and wisely read, Char. I have always thought of my work as work done in the stolen moments. I wonder if I can ever break that habit of being or thinking?
My mother took me to hear Tillie Olsen read sometime in the late 70s. Margaret Atwood, Alice Munro and Margaret Laurence at reverently in the front row. Meeting Tillie after the reading had a powerful impact on my life. I wish I could show you her inscription in my copy of Silences, but Substack doesn’t allow photos in comments (you can see it in an essay on my stack). I struggled for many years to put Tillie’s call into practice, to believe I had anything to say that people would read. One of Tillie’s daughters is among my readers, connection to my transformative encounter with her mother.
"...A mind at work, a mind thinking through. And that, too, is life. And that, too, is literature." And Tillie Olsen's Silences. Thank you for all of this, Beth! Yet again, you speak to my condition as Quakers say. Yes. I, too, raised a kid and her dad; I, too, silenced myself to earn a living. I don't entirely regret those decades, because I think the life experience grew my writing voice. But I do regret not honoring my creative self more as a stepmother and a wife, as a lover and partner. Now that I am a solo elder, I feel an urgency to use my voice well in whatever time I am given.
I think back on my first glimpse of you, Susan, all those years ago in Miami, and remember my being in awe of you, this prevailing sense of you being quietly centered in your self. Your urgency is compelling. Your deep reach into the world. xo
What a beautiful thing to say, Beth! I think black to meeting you then, and what I remember is thinking, "How vividly alive and intensely creative she is! The kids are going to love her." And they did. Blessings and a hug to you.
Beth...this made me remember when I was working with a writing coach (the wonderful Brooke Warner of She Writes Press) for a year on my own memoir. We got to the last chapter, which details how wonderful my life had become after all I had gone through. But then! The eradicated brain tumor that began the first chapter came roaring back! I sat in silence and realized that the whole of my writing, the story I had told, now had all new meaning. What I thought had happened in my life was not what was actually happening in my life! What now? I set it aside and stayed silent. Now I've picked my pen back up...here.
I see this, this reimagining, this new knowing, in your work, Linda. It's incredible, writing memoir, how there never really IS an end to the story. It is always being reframed by new wisdom, new news, new evidence. I found that to be the case in my memoir My Life in Paper: Everything I thought I understood about my parents is blown apart at the end, when I discover new letters and documents that I had never remembered reading before.
Wow Beth...that happened to me too! When I was in my sixties I found a death certificate and a letter that changed everything about how I saw my parents.
This is so wonderful! I had forgotten reading Tillie Olsen's book. Very timely as well, as I struggle to find my voice in calling our legislators. Thank you for the gentle reminder!
The Olsen quote about raising children and working and that "...the simplest circumstance of creation did not exist.” resonated. That is an ever present struggle and the contemplation of my Substack next week. Thank you for taking up the unnatural silences that thwart. I wrestle daily with Clarissa Pinkola Estes's insistence, "A woman must be careful to not allow over-responsibility (over-respectability) to steal her necessary creative rest, riffs, and raptures...Art is not meant to be created in stolen moments only." (Women Who Run With the Wolves) And I love these wise, reminding words from this from you, “She has shown us a mind at work, a mind working through. And that, too, is life. That, too, is literature.”
You are so widely and wisely read, Char. I have always thought of my work as work done in the stolen moments. I wonder if I can ever break that habit of being or thinking?
Kate Chopin's Edna in The Awakening struggled with "over-respectability." It can be a powerful thwarting force.
Thanks for this Marianna, I'm going to look for it.
My mother took me to hear Tillie Olsen read sometime in the late 70s. Margaret Atwood, Alice Munro and Margaret Laurence at reverently in the front row. Meeting Tillie after the reading had a powerful impact on my life. I wish I could show you her inscription in my copy of Silences, but Substack doesn’t allow photos in comments (you can see it in an essay on my stack). I struggled for many years to put Tillie’s call into practice, to believe I had anything to say that people would read. One of Tillie’s daughters is among my readers, connection to my transformative encounter with her mother.
Oh my goodness. I had NO idea. Rona, you have lived such an interesting, rich, fulfilled and fulfilling life. What a beautiful story this is!
WOW! Amazing. About the reading and about Tillie's daughter--life as a circle.
"...A mind at work, a mind thinking through. And that, too, is life. And that, too, is literature." And Tillie Olsen's Silences. Thank you for all of this, Beth! Yet again, you speak to my condition as Quakers say. Yes. I, too, raised a kid and her dad; I, too, silenced myself to earn a living. I don't entirely regret those decades, because I think the life experience grew my writing voice. But I do regret not honoring my creative self more as a stepmother and a wife, as a lover and partner. Now that I am a solo elder, I feel an urgency to use my voice well in whatever time I am given.
I think back on my first glimpse of you, Susan, all those years ago in Miami, and remember my being in awe of you, this prevailing sense of you being quietly centered in your self. Your urgency is compelling. Your deep reach into the world. xo
What a beautiful thing to say, Beth! I think black to meeting you then, and what I remember is thinking, "How vividly alive and intensely creative she is! The kids are going to love her." And they did. Blessings and a hug to you.
Something to keep in mind:
"But I wish to go on, not to settle down in that dismal puddle."
We all have our dismal puddles. Let's go on.
Let us go on!
I love this— thank you for bringing these two writers together this morning.
I keep thinking about what we writers need right now. This is taking me off the path of some planned reflections. But. This. Now. Xo
Beth...this made me remember when I was working with a writing coach (the wonderful Brooke Warner of She Writes Press) for a year on my own memoir. We got to the last chapter, which details how wonderful my life had become after all I had gone through. But then! The eradicated brain tumor that began the first chapter came roaring back! I sat in silence and realized that the whole of my writing, the story I had told, now had all new meaning. What I thought had happened in my life was not what was actually happening in my life! What now? I set it aside and stayed silent. Now I've picked my pen back up...here.
I see this, this reimagining, this new knowing, in your work, Linda. It's incredible, writing memoir, how there never really IS an end to the story. It is always being reframed by new wisdom, new news, new evidence. I found that to be the case in my memoir My Life in Paper: Everything I thought I understood about my parents is blown apart at the end, when I discover new letters and documents that I had never remembered reading before.
Wow Beth...that happened to me too! When I was in my sixties I found a death certificate and a letter that changed everything about how I saw my parents.
Sometimes the mind at work, the working through can only happen in the silence, the pauses.
So very very true, Trish. We just have to use those silences to our advantage, to clear our minds so that they have room to thrive, breathe, know.
My own 15 year silence thwarted my soul’s work. Now I am pulling back the blinds and diving in. Thank you for this reminder to love all things.
Pull back those blinds, Martha. And yes: Love all things.
This is so wonderful! I had forgotten reading Tillie Olsen's book. Very timely as well, as I struggle to find my voice in calling our legislators. Thank you for the gentle reminder!
We are all finding our voices, Beth. I find that everything I am now writing here is infused with the pressing, heavy knowledge of the immediate hour.
May memoirs make it
through troubles' trials, travails,
past pain, pen’s silence.