Perseverance Pays Off

I promised some writing exercises to begin today, but I'm going to postpone a day. Instead, I'd like to let you know about a writing project that proved difficult for me. Perseverance paid off with a published article. 

I've written about trying to write a personal essay about the WWII Rhone American Cemetery we visited in France during the summer of 2010. I knew I wanted to write about our visit, but when I got home,, the essay I hoped for just would not come. I couldn't pinpoint the feelings I'd had there. I tried, put it away, tried again. Finally sent it to my online crit group. They pointed out that something was missing. Well, I knew that! It's why I asked for help. To be fair, they did highlight things that were missing, and they did urge me to keep working on it as it could be a worthwhile essay eventually.

I read it over and over and finally ended up filing it in the To Be Worked On folder where it stayed for many months. In mid-summer of this year, I pulled it out and worked on it again. This time, it came out more like I'd wanted it to the first gazillion times I tried to write it. I sent it to the editor of 

The Best Times and she accepted immediately for their November issue which would be dedicated to Veterans. She asked for some pictures which I sent later. 

You can read the essay here. It received a full page along with two pictures. I'm so glad that I didn't leave the piece to gather dust in that folder filled with things I need to work on. It's a story I wanted to share with others and so I persevered. Those who read my blog frequently know that my two keywords for the writing world are Patience and Perseverance. I'm not sure how patient I was, but the second keyword paid off. 

If you have a project you're having trouble with, don't give up. Keep at it. Maybe not on a constant basis. Bring it out every now and then. It may look quite different to you after you've been away from it. The biggest problem can suddenly be flooded with the light of a new dawn. 

I Remember... Exercise Part 2

This is part 2 of yesterday's writing exercise. You were to write I remember, then freewrite whatever came to mind for as long as you can. Look back at what you've written. You may find a theme in what is there, and you may find enough for inspiration to write more than one personal essay. 

When I looked at the sample of mine that I posted yesterday, something stood out for me. You'll see it in this second part below. Because of crowded conditions in our living arrangement, I never had time alone during my growing-up years. That is material for a full essay, using what I'd written as an example. Take a look at the rest of my exercise below and see what else might be used for another essay. 

I remember.... Part 2

I never knew what it was to be alone during my growing-up years. With three younger brothers and living in a small apartment, privacy came down to my allotted ten minutes in the bathroom each morning. The only place I can remember having solitude is when I walked to the library, which was at least once every week. Down the three flights of stairs with a load of books in my arms and away I went, past the conservatory in the next block, past the city park, and across the double set of railroad tracks. One was for freight trains, the other for Chicago Transit Authority "els" Once over the tracks, I turned onto a cinder path that ran behind the train station platform. I loved that cinder path. It made me feel as though I’d entered another world. The feel of concrete under my feet was the norm, but crunching along the cinder path brought me to another realm. The back of the train platform was to one side of me and a field of tall weeds bordered the other side of the path. Today, I would probably think it was no place for a child to be walking alone, but I did it myriad times over those years and never had a mishap. Maybe an angel walked with me.

The cinder path ended all too soon to suit me, and I skipped along the remaining block and a half until I reached my home away from home--the public library. While I made the walk to and from the library, my thoughts ran to so many things. I had time to think, to plan, to dream. I cherished that private time as much as the wonderful books I carried with me.

I remember so many good things my mother cooked and baked for us. Food was something to be enjoyed in our home, not just to eat to stay alive. Money was scarce, and Mother skimped on many things, but food was of primary importance, and we ate quite well. Steak appeared on our table only occasionally.  And we knew if we had steak one night, the next night was something like tuna casserole, or a pound of hamburger stretched in any way possible, and some never even thought of before. My mother baked a lot, and she passed the love of baking on to me. She had learned from her own mother who had a neighborhood bakery for many years.

Memories feed an old soul. Memories entertain the younger generations. Memories are priceless.

Yes, I remember so many things from those childhood years on Garfield Street in Oak Park, Illinois. They helped make me the person I am today, and they've made me appreciate all that I have as an adult, not least of all, the joy of having occasional private moments.__._,_.___

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