My dear friend Inga asked me why I was writing a blog, “What’s the point?!” Suddenly, I felt myself up against the wall, panic-stricken, scrambling to justify my cyberspace soapbox.
Do I look like some desperate, attention-seeking Malibu housewife?!
Yikes! How embarrassing! I mustered all the dignity that I could find.
“Of course I have a point!”
Three years ago, I was approached by a literary agent, to write a memoir. The idea of dredging through my past didn’t thrill me at first, but I decided I would give it a try. I did have some pretty good stories: how Prince Andrew proposed to me on the balcony at Buckingham Palace the night of Princess Diana’s wedding, how my mother was a princess, how Richard Burton had been my mentor, how the Kennedys’ thought I was their cousin, why I had married infamous producer Robert Evans for a week (I have to table that one until he drops off the perch), how I recovered from an eating disorder, recovered from childhood sexual abuse, recovered from infidelity (there was a lot of recovering!) blah, blah, blah…
In all, I came up with 42 chapters. I was told no one would tolerate a memoir of that length. So, I began to chop the rich and multi-faceted smorgasbord of my life into 12 tapas-sized morsels.
The final feedback was that the stories were great but there was no through-line. “What did that mean?” I exploded, “It’s my life! Are you telling me that you can’t find ‘me’ within the context of my stories?” I walked away, completely flummoxed and tossed my ghostly life into a dusty drawer.
A month ago, another friend of mine, amazing healer Chris Maher, suggested that I start a blog. “You have so much to say, you have a voice and there is an audience out there.” I was very flattered by his confidence in me. If it would be a way to make a contribution – that intrigued me. But then I felt my stomach lurch, I felt an immediate surge of resistance. Not surprising, since the outcome of my last writing assignment – Was I setting myself up for another line-up of rotten tomatoes?
And precisely because it brought up so much fear, I decided to listen to Chris. I decided to confront that fear head-on.
Now that is the superficial explanation. There is also a deeper motivation, an almost primal urge that revealed itself-
I am a creative being – and although my children are my proudest creations, my soul cannot be sustained by a diet of 2nd grade book reports! (I had to do 10 until Celeste got the hang of it)
As soon as I committed to the blog, I began to get in touch with a flow of creativity that unleashed inside me. It is a veritable deluge of ideas. It is overwhelming, and hard to shut down when I want to go to sleep. I am driving my husband insane as I continually turn on the light to jot down notes by my bedside.
I realized that I had been in denial of how much I needed an outlet, a place to express myself. Chris was right – I have a voice, a story, a point of view, and there is something so profoundly cathartic about sharing that with others. It is a way for me to connect, to reach out, to feel part of the human community in a way I never knew I needed.
I have no expectation that anyone will find me out there, no guarantee that anyone will resonate, no attachment to any outcome. This blogging becomes an act of faith.
I realized that I can no longer sit around and wait to be hired to have an outlet. I need a continual outlet or the energy inside me stagnates and I become restless and irritable, eat too much sugar, obsess over sagging and eventually become ill! – All no longer an option!
So, the bottom line is: I MUST write or I will suffocate!
And because I am a woman, I will write about everything from my favorite new shoes that don’t cripple me after 30 minutes to a yummy guilt-free recipe that my daughter India has invented, to ways to become a better mother and more fulfilled human being, to improving quality of life, to developing deeper more meaningful and loving relationships, to greater intimacy with the Divine. And anything else that tickles my fancy!
And there you have it. That is the whole point!
Of course, the real truth is that everyone needs a creative outlet!
Hey! Inga! You paint! I scribble!