I want to be used.
“I want to be used”
What is that you say?
“I want to be used”
Yep, that is the voice of my book talking. The one I went to the beach to work on started talking.
The book started out making was a book of poems, a collection of my writings over ten year. When my mom Caron was visiting she helped me pull all of them, all, oh over 300 pages of them into one document.
After a few days on the beach to ponder….and by the way, one should always take time at the beach when writing a book it began to shape shift into something else it wanted to be. If the book had a voice, which evidently she does, she would have said this:
“I want to be used. I want to be held in the palm of the hand. Sit on the coffee table and tea cart
and the counter at the local bar. I want to be marked in and dog eared and I want scribbles in the margins. I want to be used. If I am going to be brought forth, I want to come out in a way that is useful.”
“Hmmmmmm…you do you?” I would have replied, tired from editing and hearing voices.
“Oh yes, and I want to be beautiful. I want to be heard in women’s circles.
Online and in workshops and on blogs and read aloud at parties and to lovers across coffee and
lit cigarettes. I want to be heard spoken in the streets and I would not mind some socially conscious graffiti in my honor.”
I am not the sarcastic type but I did find myself saying this: “You and everybody else. Well, except for the ‘used’ part, not everybody wants that.”
“Well I think we all want to be useful in some way. We have worked for years on this and I don’t want to sit up on a shelf relegated to the penthouses of peotry. Not that I would mind sitting next to Eliot, Dylan, Rumi or Sylvia. But I am meant for something else. Well why not try. You are always telling everyone to try. To speak their truth. To say it out. And I am doing just that.”
“You are verging on whining now.” I said.
“I want a new form and I won’t collaborate until you listen to what I am telling you. You know I love being poetry just as much as you love writing it – but there is something else to explore here. Will you listen?”
Sigh. So I got out my red pencil my scissors and set to marking and cutting and then stitching it back together with the red thread of hope.
That is how this book my new book, Tea with the Muse was crafted. Part parable part poetry part guidebook. Like the lady said, it is intended to used. We hope you find some use. I will let you know how it all works out.