Bienvenidos! Welcome!

Thanks for visiting Daughter of Corn. I hope you enjoy the essays and thoughts about the journeys of a writer in San Miguel....who ends up in Iowa City!

Friday, September 17, 2010

Traveling Journals

     Anais Nin wrote so many journals that she stored them in bank vaults.  Lucky for her that her husband was a banker.  I started writing in journals when I was twenty years old.   My friend, Ann, urged me to consider the act of daily writing and so I worked my way backward from a small spiral notebook I found stuffed in a drawer--don't ask me why.  Ann was an English major like me, and she also encouraged her mother to write in a journal.  When I informed her how she had influenced me at a recent class reunion, Ann couldn't remember anything about that fall day at her house in Ames, Iowa. And she was astounded to hear that I never quit writing.  I have over thirty-five years of journals, and when I drove my orange Focus to San Miguel, it was full of boxes filled with them for referencing.
   Does it matter if we realize when we inspire another writer?  Anais Nin was my inspiration, not just because of the journals, but because she bought a press when she wanted to publish her work.  The Bronte sisters paid what amounted to almost a years' worth of income to publish a volume of poetry before getting  their novels accepted by a publishing house.  As women writers, acting as if our work is valuable before we get approval from an outside source is imperative.  If if weren't for Ann, I might not have written such a vivid memoir as Daughter of Corn.  Even more important, I wouldn't have gone through such a profound healing process, as when I reread my journals in order to write my book.
During a long, blustery winter I seized my past and cried my way through unexpected memories which had been buried under my stoic self. 
     Isn't it interesting that by giving the gift of journal writing to ourselves, by allowing private thoughts and riveting emotions to be penned onto the page, that this act is so alive it can produce offspring of many sorts?  We should not be afraid of this kind of doing.  Many women I know let the internal, patriarchal critic rise up before they can pick up a pen.  Tell me, who is your inspiration?  Who are the grandmothers of your literary heart?  Listen to them, for we are all in need of your inspired words.

Photo Collage, Corinne J. Stanley copyright 2010

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