Writing Happens

A common piece of advice for writers -- one that I find in most instructional books on writing -- is to write something every day, no matter what it is, without fail. So today I shall write about Wit and release some pent-up emotions at the same time.

Wit is a movie starring Emma Thompson, whose acting is brilliant and who is bald-headed in most of the scenes. Her character finds out that she has an advanced stage of insidious cancer and spends months in the hospital for aggressive chemotherapy treatments. I’ll not reveal the whole story; Wit is worth watching.

Considering the narrow scope of the movie’s setting -- almost all of it takes place in the hospital -- it seems that watching Wit might have a soporific effect, but I was engrossed. That may be because I’m currently filled with concern for my mother’s and my stepfather’s health. Mom had most of a lung removed two years ago. The surgeon got all of the cancer, but Mom has had dementia ever since. Her memory is slipping at an alarming rate, but I can’t bring myself to concede that she has Alzheimer's. My 79-year-old stepfather, Bob, is scheduled for major surgery soon. It’s a serious situation. Even though a great support system is in place for them, one thing Mom is aware of and talks about is that she is terrified about what will happen to Bob and to her when he goes to the hospital for the operation.

So as I watched Wit, I identified with it. Afterwards, hours later, poignant messages that were subtly woven into the story captured my imagination as a writer and as a daughter. They invaded my consciousness in wave after wave of revelation. A most beautiful inference is that life ends with as much meaning as it begins, and everything finally makes sense.

But before the peace comes the storm, and Wit exemplifies that life is sometimes difficult beyond comprehension.

Even while hanging onto faith and trust in God -- as I do like a skydiver to a parachute that isn’t strapped on -- gray clouds of concern and anticipation sometimes fill my heart. My world is a little bit off of its orbit. Just when it would be easy for me to lose my focus on writing, well-timed reminders to write every day have come from various sources. Like fresh spring bouquets, the ticklers encourage me to breathe deeply. And keep writing as life happens.

(published June 2006)