So, I’ve come back to this blog. I’m not entirely sure why, but I’m suddenly and powerfully drawn here. Also, I don’t like leaving something abandoned and unfinished. Next month it will be five years since I last posted anything here, and those years have indeed been eventful ones (aren’t all years though, really?). I must still have things I want and need to say, but will they be the same things I would have said five years ago? Hmmm…
Because it’s the kind of person I am, before I could write anything new to share (or even share anything not new), I had to read everything that was already here. And of course make corrections. Some of these were typos that got past me before (HOW does that keep happening, even when I’ve read something fifteen times?), but there were also stylistic changes, things that I thought were perfectly fine when I wrote them back then but I don’t like anymore. I guess this shows that I’ve changed, at least a little bit, as a writer.
But am I still the SAME writer?
And am I the same person?
I understand that one must continue to learn and grow, so perhaps it is just that. I look at my life and wonder though, how many different people I have been. Not in a metaphysical sense (because that’s a WHOLE OTHER SUBJECT! And believe me, I could write A LOT about that!). I mean, how many times have my personality, outlook, likes, needs, etc. changed? And not just changed a little, but changed drastically! And how have these changes impacted my writing?
Or have any changes really been that drastic? Do they just seem that way on the surface? Are they just the normal evolutions of a person?
In high school I thought I was a pretty decent writer, better than many, at least, and I got mostly As on my papers, but I look back at my surviving writing (journals mostly, which I may or may not ever reproduce here), and I’m pretty much HORRIFIED! Ugh! On a generous day I would most likely grade my teenage self with Cs. I was a somewhat naïve (although I hate to admit it!), suburban girl then though. I’d traveled throughout the US but only lived in one town. I hadn’t experienced much of life, certainly not as much as I liked to think I had! Some of that comes from reading a lot, which is a form of experience, even though not hands-on. I was still pretty innocent, or at least it looks that way from where I stand now.
And all of that influenced my writing of the time, which I would definitely call naïve, inexperienced, and innocent.
But do I FEEL differently than that girl? Has my worldview changed significantly? Hmmm…
Sometimes I do still feel like the fourteen-year-old girl I used to be. I know how she thought and felt and I can still access that easily. In many areas I often see the perspective of teenagers before I see the perspective of adults. Many of that girl’s dreams and ideals are still inside me, although (somewhat and sometimes) tempered by the forty plus years of life I’ve lived since then.
My writing is that way too, I guess. I still ramble on, just like I’ve always done (and write parenthetically, which I think I began doing when my best friend and I wrote letters to each other during the school day, back in about 1973—I REALLY wish I still had some of those!!!) I’ve learned though, on my own and from some amazing teachers, in these past forty years, and even more importantly, I’ve written a lot and writing makes a person a better writer.
This is a lot to ponder and I don’t think I can yet answer the question this blog title posed. Since I’ve asked the question I know I will be looking at my future blog posts very carefully, watching for clues and answers.
And of course I will share those with you!
Welcome back to my blog!