The Rose

AUTHOR’S GAB, READER TALK.

A LETTER TO YOU, THE READER, SO THAT YOU CAN FINALLY FIGURE OUT WHAT I’M THINKING.

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THIS MONTH: Uncorking the Imagination and Bottling the Common Sense

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“Falling in love consists merely in uncorking the imagination and bottling the common sense.” — Helen Rowland, American writer and humorist

Dear Reader,

….

My dad stepped into the bridal room and tried not to cry. “You look beautiful,” he said, admiring my sister, Julia, in her white, jeweled wedding gown, with all of us bridesmaids arrayed behind her in princess-cut, lavender, flowing, floor-length dresses. He hugged her, emotionally, and someone graciously handed him a tissue. A few moments later, my brother, Nathan, joined him, tears tugging at his eyes as he saw all of us arrayed, awaiting the wedding ceremony to start.

The day before, at the rehearsal, the wedding coordinator had mistakenly thought my mom was a bridesmaid (a tribute to her youthful looks, I’m sure) and sent her down the isle that way. After a few laughs, we assured the coordinator, Vicky, that she was, indeed, the mother of the bride and corrected the line-up. So, today, we were in proper form for the real thing.

It took everything for me to stand straight up with a smile on my face and keep pace with Nathan down the isle, whose stride, most likely due to his height, is much longer than mine.

Step, together. Step, together. To the music, smile for the camera now. Bow at the altar. This is a Catholic church, after all. Position, turn. Face the back of the church. Wait.

There was a pause. The music changed. I sweated for a moment because no one was emerging. And then, my dad, with Julia on his arm, emerged from the back of the church, both of them beaming and looking nervous at the same time. Everyone stood as they walked, slowly and methodically, down the isle.

I looked over at Frank, her then-finance, soon-to-be husband, for a reaction. I could tell his innards were shaking nervously, but the man was not crying as everyone had expected. He was just looking at Julia walking down the isle, waiting patiently as if he was anticipating every moment and looking unwaveringly at them approaching. For a moment, they could have been playing “how do you solve a problem like Maria” A cappella, just like in “Sound of Music” when *spoilers* Maria marries the Captain in that gorgeous Catholic church mid-movie. And, if you know my sister, it’s a close comparison.

My dad, likewise, did not get emotional when he gave my sister away. In fact, he was smiling as he placed their hands together and gave Frank a half-hug, half-hearty handshake. It almost seemed too happy. I mean, I have seen fathers sob when they give their daughters away. My dad? He was just like, “Here you go, son! She’s all yours, now! Good luck and welcome to the family!”

The priest, clad in white, draping robes and moving like he was floating on a cloud, called the couple forward and started the ceremony. A traditional Catholic mass, everything had a proper reply, a calculated, significant move, a needed answer in worship or otherwise. It took everything for me to remember each step I was supposed to take from one run-through the night before. The photographers also surrounded us now, and I was pretty sure if I flinched it would be caught on tape. It was like an old-fashioned dance: as long as you remembered your moves, everything would run smoothly.

Which is why, when it came to the vows, Frank got so caught up in the moves of everything that he forgot what was actually happening. I knew the reality of the wedding had hit certain people at certain times, but I realized it was just now hitting Frank as he was standing at the altar about to proclaim his vows. The priest began the dialogue about the vows, said Frank’s name and it was like he was jolted out of a sound sleep. Like, “Oh my gosh. This is actually happening. I love this woman. I’m getting married. This is what I want. Right, it’s actually time to profess it!” And, with a heart-felt, satisfied smile, hand shaking from nervousness and missing a beat here and there, that’s exactly what they did.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I now pronounce to you, for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Frank Graeser!”

Cheers went through the crowd as Frank dipped Julia in a swashbuckling first kiss. They raised their hands high and walked down the isle triumphantly. We all followed, walking more quickly and jubilantly than when we came in. They went upstairs to sign the marriage contract, came down and, just like that, my little sister was a married woman and I had gained a new brother-in-law.

And somewhere, deep in my heart, as I danced the night away in their honor at the reception, I knew I couldn’t be happier for both of them.

…..

Now, I could have just said, “my sister got married”, but I didn’t. Because, sometimes, writing becomes a personal experience. Sometimes, in order to convey what really happened, you have to dig into the deepest parts of your mind and your heart and find out what you really care about and throw that on the page. Sometimes, you have to really describe what you are going through.

And, I’m not just  talking about writing it all out and burying it in your diary or telling a few friends. I’m talking about flushing it out on the page for all to see. Because personal experiences, like falling in love, as Helen Rowland says, are all about uncorking your imagination, dispelling the common sense and just telling it like it is. And, it is about doing it in a way that is relatable to other people who may or may not be going through the same thing.

First, just tell what happened already. My sister’s wedding, for example, was a personal experience for me. But, did I not share it with you simply because it was personal? No. I wrote it out in a compelling way that was interesting and easy for people to understand. I didn’t talk about the whole thing, nor did I have to. In fact, it would be too much to speak about everything that happened. I just picked one moment and made it relatable to an audience. I told you what happened to me, what happened to my sister and what went through my head when I was doing it.

And, through the process, I gave you a good story, a relatable story, that was in tune with my experience, not dissimilar from speaking with a good friend or family member. Because, as we all know, good writing comes from reality. It’s about uncorking your imagination, taking the things you see and putting them on paper. You don’t always have to write a fictional story or poem or about something that’s not you to convey that imagination and write well. Good writing can be actual experiences, too, and the most powerful ones are often the ones that happen to you, because you know those experiences better than anyone else in the world.

So, why not tell them? Better they are told! Simply take everything and talk about what happened to you. And, you will create a wonderful story just from that alone.

Secondly, write about what you are feeling, because it is in this that a personal experience comes alive. And yet, it is here where we most often recoil, because common sense tells us not to tell a story if it contains our deepest, darkest emotional secrets. And yet, some of the most colorful, most intimate writing in our lives comes from our spectrum of emotions arrayed on the page, which can help our readers with their own emotional experiences.

Think of the times you have felt joy or been in a dark place, searching the corners of the internet for someone who feels the same way you do. Think of the times you have needed to figure something out and run across a story or an article that helped you come up with the proper reply. We can help our readers just by adding to the vast well of human experience by being ourselves. What power there is in that!

Let me offer an antidote, however, because deepest, darkest emotional secrets are, indeed, a hard thing to express publicly. In fact, I too have struggled with getting my emotions on the page.

Over the past few years, I have had one of the most deepest, darkest, rip-roaring emotional experiences of my entire life. And, I’m not talking about just one instance. I’m talking about multiple instances strung together and hung out to dry, like my heart pinned to a clothesline. Each instance was very personal, and I struggled, especially when it came to my writing. It seemed like each poem I churned out had to do with my emotional process, and I became frustrated. Why can I not write about anything else?

I threw poem after poem in the wastebasket, secretly tucked in drawers, the bleeding confined to the corners of my diary, where it was safe to do so. How could I publish any of this publicly, especially without adding fuel to the fire? I published a few poems, took a few down, re-added a few again later. Some I deemed too personal for publication and stuffed them back in the drawer or in draft mode where they belonged.

But, the things I was writing about were things people could relate to. I wrote about love. I wrote about loss. I wrote about friendships, falling-outs, reconciliations and relationships that couldn’t be repaired. I wrote about what it felt like to be dumped and rejected. I wrote about how I healed. I wrote about marriage. And, most importantly, I wrote about how it all made me feel.

Ultimately, I ended up with a matching clothesline of relatable, personal poetry that underlined my personal experiences and could be applicable to other people’s personal experiences. Hard as it was to write all that, it not only helped me process what I was going through, it also highlighted everyday issues that people are going through that actually matter to them. My feelings matched feelings, like sitting down and having a heart to heart. I didn’t have to publish everything, but I published enough to convey emotion.

Now, thirdly, when writing about emotional or personal experiences, I want to draw an important distinction: for God’s sake, make it applicable and don’t overdo it. I see way too much sappy love poetry or people crying about their breakups in their writing online. If we ship it, we sail it. As a result, we tend to get too caught up in just flushing out our emotions on the page, saying this or that happened.

No.

Just stop right there. That’s the wrong way to write about a personal experience. Sure, you told what happened and how you felt, but you went overboard doing it. It’s like you crapped in the toilet and just flushed it all out on us. And, frankly, everyone has enough of their own shit. They don’t need a laundry list explaining yours.

So, cut the crap and think before you unleash the fury, which can be a very hard thing to do when writing about emotions. Because, emotions are like water: it feels so refreshing when you pour them out and drink them back in again. But, guys, this why we have well-meaning family members, excellent friends, sound therapists and diaries. This is why, if we ever feel ourselves rambling too much on the page, you edit that shit out.

Don’t not talk about it. That’s not the point. In fact, there’s an excellent poem called “Don’t Write a Poem About Rape” by Julie Buffaloe-Yoder that excellently dispels that notion in an excellent, very well-written, personal poem you all should read. But, even in her rant, she take the time to tie it back and makes a very important point about why writing about intimate, personal things like rape are important.

It is not a rant without a purpose. She takes time to make it applicable to her reader and doesn’t overdo her sauciness or anger at her editor for not publishing her poem. She does indeed express what happened. She does express her anger. But, she does so with a point and a purpose without flushing her readers down her emotional toilet. And, that’s what makes her poem impactful and meaningful to her readers.

So, when writing about a personal or emotional experience, be sure to ask yourself these three questions: What really happened? How did that make you feel? How can this be applicable to others?

In doing so, you will be able to write about important things other people don’t usually get to talk about other than on Facebook or maybe the news. And, if you ever find yourself saying, “God, I can’t talk about that. It’s too personal,” try. Because, sometimes just saying your sister got married isn’t enough. Sometimes, you have to uncork your imagination, bottle your common sense and talk about it, really describe it, to truly point to the human experience.

Think about that.~

Sincerely, Your Writer,

Jessica A. McLean

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Recent Happenings:

• Recent Ad-Lib Activity:
  • July/August Ad-Lib is here!
  • Recently, I have not been keeping up with Ad-Libbing. I graduated last year from Oakland University and I got a job at The Oakland Press. I was doing more writing, editing, designing and publishing than I could ever dream of. But, this cascade of graduating, finding a job and working hard at a job has captivated much of my time and mental faculties, leaving little time for personal reflection. Throw in standing up in my sister’s wedding in there, and I think the amount of busy I have been is over the top. I decided there just wasn’t time for Ad-Libbing, but I would keep publishing poetry, which is what I have done. I may not be able to publish Ad-Libs monthly as before, but I hope every couple of months does the trick.~
• Recently Published:
  • I have added exciting, wonderful poems to “Do Inspire Me”, pieces of writing which both inspire me and constantly captivate my attention every time I read them. These new pieces include:
    • “Marriage” by Lawrence Raab
    • “Sonnet 18” by Shakespeare
    • “Onyx Heart” by FrostedQueen
• Poems Added:
  • “Love Goes through the Stomach”, a sonnet about marriage
  • “Headache”, a sonnet about the family dynamics and duties involved in preparing for a wedding
  • “Here,”, an emotional sonnet about healing and moving on
  • “Impossible to Forget”, an emotional semi-perfect sonnet about ending a friendship or relationship
• Editing, editing, and more editing.
• Waiting 🙂
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