Writing Wrings the Last Drop of Blood

Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand.”
—George Orwell

The demon of wanting to know the truth when there is no truth but your own truth; your own mind sees and hears things differently than any other mind on earth. However, having said that could we agree that if one sets about to expose the truth that one would look for facts as set forth in other author’s books? I do not know if this is true or not because all of life, at some point seems to be a fabrication; writing is a journey back into the soul as you relieve all that you have already lived and tried to forget or maybe tried to remember the good and failed because perhaps there was not enough good to remember. If one is often told that if only you could be more like your siblings you would not get into so much trouble. Is that the truth or did you just dream this bad dream and wake into a loving world. Parents can love their children but not really like them and the child knows when that is true. The wisdom of children far outweighs any other wisdom. It is the innocence of childhood before the world beats it out and flattens this wisdom.
Writing wrings the last drop of blood; tears the fabric of your soul and leaves you lying there in your own powerless state to change what might have been except maybe through writing the facts as you find them within the confines of a library or other public domain sources.
Neither is this true. There is no truth. There is no way to know absolutely what you search for. It is an impossible task but one must try to follow that path because there are gems along the way that may substitute for what you have looked for.
Is this a rant or a revelation? You choose.

Don’t you love all the dangling prepositions?

13 thoughts on “Writing Wrings the Last Drop of Blood

  1. Yes, a child knows how a parent feels about him/her. They read feelings of resentment. They know when a parent is going through life faking it–faking friendships, faking love, faking truth. Children can see through the hype and say, “The emperor has no clothes on!” 🙂

    This post was more like a puzzle for me. I picked up pieces, but I couldn’t follow the flow of thought. You may have chosen to leave the linking thoughts unsaid. I’m the type to analyze why those thoughts didn’t come out. But I can’t know for certain. I suppose it takes someone whose had your experiences to see the whole picture.

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  2. There are some real wise gems in here, Miss L.

    “…there is no truth but your own truth; your own mind sees and hears things differently than any other mind on earth ”

    “The wisdom of children far outweighs any other wisdom. It is the innocence of childhood before the world beats it out and flattens this wisdom.”

    I understand what you mean about what your parents tell you. My mom always told me things about myself (faults). When I grew up and analyzed my life, I saw that she was projecting her own shortcomings onto me. Those things she said about me were not true, but I actually made what she said about me come true, because I believed her (does that make sense?). As I realized more and more that what she said wasn’t true, I dropped those shortcomings she claimed I had and accepted the ones that really were mine to begin with (ha). I let her keep the ones she tried to project onto me.

    I did follow most of your train of thought here, except for the “Writing Wrings the last drop of blood.” Is that a book?

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    • Thank you, Lori. It pertains to the book I have been working on for over a year and those who are supposedly helping you and end up causing problems not anticipated. Yesterday was painful and this was written at the very end of the day….11:58. My morning ditty was prophetic. My subconscious seemed to know what was coming .
      You seem to have had a life similar to mine and overcome those shortcomings placed on you by a parent. Probably writing in the middle of the night is not wise. I never erred and it seems one of the readers could not follow my line of thought and I had a grammatical error. I could care less. My line of thinking was as sporadic as usual.

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      • Sometimes, obscure writings are meant to be a riddle for the reader to solve for growth in themselves. At least the way I see it. I liked it. I also think you were meant to write it down when half asleep and then share it. JMO.

        Is this book you are writing a memoir? Fiction? Nonfiction? You don’t have to share everything about it, but I’m curious which of those it is.

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        • It is about this 167 year old church which my great great grandfather gave the land and help build the church. He was a M. D. and a Reverend. My great grandfather was the first minister and my grandfather was a Church leader; my brother preached there and I played the piano for a number of years. I have the original deeds with official seals. However, this small rural community has rewritten history and we were totally written out. We became an invisible entity. I knew that I was disliked by the community, I just did not how much until yesterday. They do not want a factual account; I will continue on regardless. It is a very similar Hatfield/McCoy story. To answer the question I would say it is an Historical memoir while trying to be inclusive and not overbearing. Now, I will probably be overbearing and in your face. I do not like reverting back to this behavior. It plays right into what they always thought of me.

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          • Listen, in my experience, depending on the church community, some of them can be extremely judgmental. They are seeing through the eyes of their own pain and (mis)perceptions. Sometimes, if we remember those things, we can change our reactions. I hope that you can find the facts that you need to tell your story in its proper history.

            Having said that, you and I had some similar childhood experiences, but our religious upbringing I think was different. If you’re interested and/or have the time, I’d like to send you a short story I wrote about my spiritual upbringing. I tried to make it somewhat comical, especially in the beginning. It’s only six pages. Let me know, and I’ll attach it to an email to you. You can always read it at your leisure.

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