A Writer at Work

Unbelievable! A year has passsed. During which I have been writing furiously - to the end of which I will be graduating from Goddard College with an MFA in Creative Writing this July, 2008.

Every year, in Salt Lake City,UT, the Writers at Work Conference bursts into the valley and wraps its arms around writers from everywhere, hugging, nurturing, challenging, and inspiring them. This year was no different.

Abigail Thomas - who wrote the exquisite memoirs, Safekeeping and Three Dog Life - led the workshop I attended this year. She has recently published Thinkiing about Memoir, another gem. From this small jewel she assigned us a most fascinating exercise:

Take ten years of your life and compress them into two pages, using three-word sentences. Not one, not four - three-word sentences only.

Delighted, and stuggling, the workshop participants labored. Such a wealth of treasure emerged. You should try it, all of you writers out there. The precision with which words must be chosen truly hones your writing.

Here's my try:

I’m a judge. Honorable profession, that. “Ye all rise!” “Judge English presides.” “Please be seated.” My gavel bangs.
Who is sad? Who is oppressed? Who is angry? “Come before me.” I decide right. I decide wrong. I am wise. So they say.
How I began. Overachieving lawyer rose. Arrogance filled me. Success seemed inevitable. “Your client’s acquitted!” “Custody is won!” “Sentence is suspended!” “Praise to counsel!” I was unstoppable. I would judge! I was wise. So I thought.
How I continued. Day follows day. Squabbling parents divorce. Husbands fight wives. Wives fight husbands. He wants custody. She wants silver. She sabotages settlement. He hisses cruelties. Both are bull-headed. Their truths injure. Low is low. Sad is sad. Who am I? A stranger, ruling.
Year follows year. Abused children cry. Eyes like caves. Abusive parents deny. Parents beat children. Mothers drown daughters. Fathers shake sons. Cigarettes burn skins. Broken bones twist. Compassion is paramount. Prevention is paramount. Possibilities are paramount. Unravel the chaos. Unbatter the spirits. Unsettled, I rule.
Case follows case. Children smoke marijuana. Cocaine is king. Children are stealing. Adolescents are killing. Prison looms inescapably. Accusations are made. Blame is shifting. Everyone is frightened. I must rule. Can I calm? Can I choose? Can I commit? I’m the ruler.
Burden follows burden. Witnesses are called. Evidence alarms me. Arguments are given. Justice seems elusive. I must rule. Rule these families. Families are troubled. Trouble’s all around.
What happened then: The ghosts hovered. The nightmares stained. I questioned all.
There was Huong. The killer child. The axe fell. Hacked his aunt. Slaughtered his cousins. (Khmer Rouge appeared. Pol Pot haunted.) Blood was everywhere. Bodies were scattered. The limbs separated. The heads severed. Huong’s eyes disappeared.
Photographs were taken. I saw them.
Here came Sarah. Mute, she stared... Step-father raped her. Brutal force descended. His breath stank. Regrets were everywhere. Garments were scattered. Her legs separated. Lives were severed. Perpetrators eyes iced-over. Evidence was taken. I heard it.
Everywhere they appeared... The desperate parents. Poverty defeated them. Neglect smothered children. Feces were everywhere. Molding food scattered. Discouragement separated them. Their rights terminated. Children’s hearts broken. I felt them.
Pleas were pled. I answered them. I was wise.
But was I? Why am I? Who am I? Quitting called me. But I stayed. And I asked.
How it ended. I looked back. Back to birth. Birth to childhood. Childhood to adolescence. Where’s the answer? Why this work? Why this need? Why these children? Why these families? Should I stay? Should I go?
I went back. Returned to Utah. Sought out memories. My mother drank. She beat me. She taunted me. My father lied. He raped me. He abandoned me. My Church failed. It wasn’t true. It betrayed me. There, it’s said. Everything was chaos. Harm never left me. I wanted saving. Removal from harm. Those are answers.
I seek salvation. Not just mine. Save the families. Save the children. Save them all.
How it is. I remain Judge. No one rises. No gavel pounds. I sit quietly. I speak kindly. “Court’s in session. Welcome to all.” They are safe. May I rule. Be wise always.
I am them.

Here's another exercise for Abigail Thomas: "Write two pages. The first two sentences should start "I didn't ask for _____________. I asked for ________________."

Try it!