Monday, June 9, 2008

The preface to nothing

Preface: Earlier this evening I said to Dick "I'm not a writer". He said, "You are." I disagreed and I still hold by it. I'm not trying to shoot myself in the foot here, but stating my opinion. I write what's on my mind, exactly how it's in my mind. I don't craft the words, or try to find new and more exacting ones. I type fast - the words fall out. I have no internal editor and no external editor. I do correct spelling mistakes (or let others catch them for me).

My main objective is to be in dialogue with others. I use writing (or talking) about myself as the primary vehicle. This is rather a "feminine" thing to do, as Deborah Tannen points out in her books about ways in which men and women express themselves. I do not talk about myself for self aggrandizement, though it may seem that way at times. I hope that those who read my words, see something of themselves in what I write. I also hope, though I'm not there yet, that by being honest, I occasionally shed some light on areas in our lives that are usually pretty dark. My greatest desire is that by being occasionally cheerful and irreverent, in spite of "suffering" from depression, I can give a bit of hope to others who are struggling. This sounds awfully big and self-important, but it's really such a small thing. If just one of you, whoever you are, happens to try some Bulgari Black, plant some catmint, rethink why you hate your body, or decide that life's too short not to say exactly what's on your mind or do what you'd really like to do, just once, because of something you've read here, I will be immensely gratified. I guess it's not just "all about me", as I often say it is.

So, no, maybe I'm not a writer. But I'll keep on writing.

Hah! I forgot what I was prefacing. Y'know what they say, "If I forgot, it must not have been that important." I don't really believe that, but it's as good a way to end this post as any other.

Painting note: Edouard Vuillard "The Conversation" 1891


Websafe said...

In your date for the Vuillard, it looks like you transposed two characters, as I so often do when typing. Unfortunately, if I want first-time accuracy, my typing is maddeningly slow. Increasing the speed results in many dyslexic transpositions, and finally complete garble.

Vuillard lived from 1868 to 1940; Wharton from 1862 to 1937. I wonder if they crossed paths?

Julie H. Rose said...

Thanks for noticing. All fixed now!