Somehow, frigid temperatures seem to compel the muse to emerge. It was during the winter of 2004 that I began blogging, which basically jump started my pursuit of writing. The demise of my fourth child that summer, while still in the womb, was the catalyst, as I felt the intense need to write about it. In short, it became the closure to my grief, and the beginning of something else.
I still remember that winter, as documented in the many digital photos we had taken, of the thick mounds of snow, on which my children found joy in, and the blizzard that kept us comfortably stuck at home, sipping hot cocoa and thick, rich, steaming red lentil soup. There were many winters like that, and each time, (but especially that winter of 2004), I was very inspired to write. I had joined writing.com, and the prompts, contests, and sheer fact that there was a community of writers, sent me dashing to the computer each morning, where I would compose poetry. A lot of them.
Looking back, they are most probably the typical garbage poetry that are looked down upon, but it was a start nonetheless. I also eventually enrolled in the course offered by the Institute of Children’s Literature, after receiving a constant barrage of mail offers from them. I thought, why not? (I guess that’s what you would call persistent marketing, targeting the ego) It was pretty costly, but I really treasured the experience and lessons I gained from it. I don’t regret spending that amount of money on it. Later on, I had several articles published in online magazines and websites. I had eyed several children’s magazines, but an aspect of my visa limited my targets. Nevertheless, I made do with what I had.
Since then, my publication pace has been declining, mostly due to a change of pace in my personal and home life, and maybe, (I hate to admit this) maybe because I withdrew from the one writing community that kept me writing. I quit writing.com, which I really had learned a lot from. Homeschooling my kids (the hard way, I have to add) took most of my time, and I focused my writing activities on my homeschooling blog.
Yet, the need to write is still quite strong in me, and blogging didn’t seem enough. I have a goal to strive for, but, (I know there shouldn’t be buts) my situation now makes it rather difficult to pursue it agressively. I settled with freelancing, which has quicker results and immediate satisfaction, and now, I’m actually loving it. My pace is still slow though, but I’m pretty content with it, because I get to write about what I’m passionate about.
Recently, the possibility of taking MFA in Creative Writing popped up, more out of desperation than anything else. And it’s not out of desperation for publication, but one borne out of what I would say is an extenuating circumstance. It was a week of frenzy. I found myself getting all stressed out, confused, and bewildered. There was GRE to take, there were people to contact, and there were documents to prepare. In the end, after much thought, prayer and discussion, we decided (hubby and I) that it may be better for me to put it on hold for now. Well, it was mostly me. Hubby just left it mostly to me. If and when I do decide to take it, I do have plans for it. I have something now to put in the statement of purpose. But for now, it will be a relaxed pace of research and learning more about the MFA programs across the world, though familiarity drives me to consider only the United States. But at least, no more frantic searching and deciding for now.
And now, it’s winter again. It has been four years since the winter that I began writing. I have always loved writing, but I never really considered pursuing it seriously. Now I am. And I have to say that there is something about the bone-biting cold, the calm that comes with a generous blanket of snow, and the silence that it brings. That something, compels my inner poet and writer to surge out, maybe in search of warmth, consolation, and company.
Hmm…maybe I should look up that low-residency MFA program in Anchorage, Alaska…
