Finding a Voice

"Write as if you were dying. At the same time, assume you write for an audience consisting solely of terminal patients. That is, after all, the case. What would you begin writing if you knew you would die soon? What could you say to a dying person that would not enrage by its triviality?

"Write about winter in the summer. Describe Norway as Ibsen did, from a desk in Italy; describe Dublin as James Joyce did, from a desk in Paris. Willa Cather wrote her prairie novels in New York City; Mark Twain wrote 'Huckleberry Finn' in Hartford. Recently scholars learned that Walt Whitman rarely left his room.

"The writer studies literature, not the world. She lives in the world; she cannot miss it. If she has ever bought a hamburger, or taken a commercial airplane flight, she spares her readers a report of her experience. She is careful of what she reads, for that is what she will write. She is careful of what she learns, because that is what she will know."

~ Annie Dillard, "Write Till You Drop," The New York Times on the web

Yesterday I spent a lovely evening with Shantelle, my colleague who was suddenly diagnosed in early November with terrible, terrible cancer. I arrived later than expected, shared a supper of sloppy joes and then stayed for "family games night" with her and her 8 year old daughter. We played Uno Attack, a version I had never played before -- what a scream. We flinched every time we pressed the button, never knowing if cards would come shooting out or how many. One time Shantelle moved the salsa just as Mikhayla pressed the button and 2 cards landed in the sauce! I'm going to see about getting this game for our family Christmas in Calgary.

A potentially terminal illness is sobering. Shantelle has faced it not just courageously but reflectively, realizing the preciousness of people and memories, especially family, and the fleetingness of accomplishments. And she writes about it all on her blog, not merely as if she were dying -- she very well could be, and she captures moments in print and picture while she can.

Annie Dillard's article challenges me to finish a particular project. I was going to write something for my dad's birthday in August, then for his birthday party in October -- now I'm going to write it for him for Christmas. This time I really am going to finish it. If I was dying I would write down childhood memories and give them to the key character. If I had pictures, I would include those with the memoir. Perhaps I would give these stories one at a time and someday (if someday comes) self-publish the collection in a little bound book. Here's the birthday reflection: The Honey House. (If it's not there immediately, check back in a day or two.)