Who are you talking to? It was the question I would get asked when I was small. So I learned not to talk out loud, but to keep my stories inside. Then I learned to write. But the thing is, I’m still talking to someone invisible, someone mysterious, and especially on a walk or while driving the car, I can still easily find myself making up a story out loud.
Recently, the question of who are we writing for arose in a conversation. Some writers talked about imagining someone ‘across the desk’ or writing to a friend. Another writer talked about writing to a group of readers in a variety of libraries or reading rooms. I marveled at these writers being so clear about their audience. And I wondered at how ‘grown up’ they were to imagine real people reading their work, so that the creation began with that exterior, outward imagining. When I said that I write for myself first, the other writers said, “Well, journal writing is personal writing and very valuable.” But that’s not what I was talking about.
I think that all of our stories no matter what the ratio is of memory to imagination are stories that begin and echo in the deep curved walls of our internal caves. Like handprints at Lascaux, our stories affirm that we are alive, that we have a voice that we can still hear, and that we can shape the characters and the scenes that travel far beyond where we are standing and experiencing in that moment. As a child, the answer to the question was complicated, which is why I could never answer. I wasn’t talking to anyone. I was talking to everyone. I was talking to myself. I was talking to someone who believed every word I said and felt every emotion of the characters. I was talking to a spirit who said, “Yes, and there’s more.” To this day when I write, I picture no listener anywhere. I simply see the people in the stories and hear them speak. I walk in the woods or down the avenues where they walk and sit at their kitchen tables. I vanish from this world and travel in time and space.
I offer my own creative process, not because I think it is superior or results in better craft, but to give permission to others that there are infinite ways to set about creating art. Books are full of strategies and advice, much of it very fine. Everyone’s perception of their creative process is unique to them, and it is precious, it is the life raft we build, step onto and trust when we need to set off from shore. Every artist has to hug their own genius and speak to it even if it means that someone asks, “What on earth are you doing?”
Maud & Addie
A small portion of proceeds from this book have been donated to the Mi’kmawey Debert Cultural Centre to honor the original and continuing storytellers of the Mi’maq Nation and support the survivors of the Shubenacadie Residential School.
Regal House Publishing: Hard copy & Paperback
iPg Independent Publishing Group: Paperback & Ebook
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