Writing from the Well

I just finished a Creative Nonfiction class at Regis University and simultaneously began a class in Advanced Creative Nonfiction with the same instructor. The reading material stimulates and challenges me, but the writing challenges me with greater intensity. Creative nonfiction is not new as a genre, though the name is only four decades old; it deals with "true stories well told" in the words of CNF 'Godfather' Lee Gutkind. For my work this semester I have been delving into memories of my childhood and also revelations from my autoimmune craziness two years ago.

Writing helps process my memories and incorporate them into my 'whole' persona, it makes things less powerful to bring them out into the light. I have written a few essays that only my professor will see, and others that my sister and maybe my classmates will read, but really the writing is just for me right now.  A major issue for my creative nonfiction is writing about loved ones who could potentially be wounded, offended, surprised or otherwise affected by my version of the truth. I know that my truth will be different from anyone else's, and I am so open to hearing what memories family members tie to the events in my work, but my last desire is for injury. This 'murks up' the thought of publishing so that I can't see putting my work out there - even for such a limited audience as mine is sure to be!

Also - with my creative thoughts and valuable mental real estate focused on the essays due for class, I've had less space and time to write in the blog here, for which I apologize. I will try to put out little anecdotes more regularly. Less "big talk" and more real life, which is better practice for writing in any case.