The Power of Story

Yet memories of you are so far away,
so distant,
forgotten in an instant,
so much as to where you are just
my memory.
      -- Heather (from Brookwood)

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: It happened simply by chance. At  a convention, someone--who?--had assigned writers a half hour each for booksignings. By chance, my signing-mate was Lisa Unger. Lucky me! Of course I knew who she was--a New York Times bestselling author of suspense fiction--dark and scary and psychological and riveting.  

So she arrived at the signing, trailing an aura of happiness and joy. It was the first time we'd met, but we talked non-stop for our entire session. Sometimes the world just works that way.  (And when you meet her, ask how she met her wonderful husband. It's a wow of a story--and pure Lisa!)

She has such a sense of story-telling..and an astonishing spirit of generosity. This experience she shares proves it. (And if you're interested in winning HEARTBROKEN, her latest---read on.)

The Power of Story

                     Lisa Unger

 

“Do you think having a hard life makes you a better writer?”

That’s not exactly what she asked me; I’m paraphrasing.  But it was something like that.  And this girl, a willowy, shiny-eyed young thing with an intense stare and a suitcase full of questions, really wanted an answer.  Of course, my answer was yes.  Life -- with all its difficulties and struggles, with all its joys little and big, with all its heartbreak, disappointments and pleasures – is the best and only true writing teacher.  Because writing, because story, is life.

 On a warm late summer evening last week, I sat in a brightly lit room with a group of young writers.  They happen to reside at Brookwood, a group home for adolescent girls in St. Petersburg, Florida.  They were poets and actors, fiction writers and readers. And we spent the evening talking about the power of the written word. 

 There was something about this place, and I felt it as soon as I arrived.  The very building seemed to radiate a kind of light and warmth.   Pamela Mesmer, the executive director, met me at the door, along with Sue, the board member who invited me to speak. And the first thing Pam showed me was her office, which was literally wallpapered with photographs of the girls who have passed through the group home over her 34 year tenure.  It was the measure of what the folks at Brookwood are working to achieve, to empower young women to take control of their lives, teaching them to create a good and meaningful future for themselves. 

A poetry class is part of this program of empowerment -- teaching young women how to express themselves in a healthy way.  It’s something I can relate to.  As a young person, I found a lot of solace in books, and finally as a writer. 

I didn’t go to Brookwood with an agenda, or with really anything specific to say.  I had a couple of thoughts I wanted to share. But I really just went to hang with some young writers, tell them a little bit about what writing had meant to me, and answer the questions they had about craft, process, and the essence of writing and of being a writer.  

I started off by saying that books and writing filled a void in my life when I was young.  My family traveled a lot, so I never fit in anywhere.  But on the page, I found a home. I didn’t talk for long before the questions started coming, and the rest of the evening was directed by their thoughts and ideas.

One young woman wanted to know if writing was like improvisational acting.  And, I answered that it could be.  But, for me, it was more like method acting, getting deep inside character and approaching fictional people with compassion and understanding.  Another girl wanted to know if you had to go to college to be a writer, if there were any qualifications she must meet.  No, I told her. You just have to write. If you put your pen to paper and express yourself there, you’re a writer.  Writers just write.

We talked about the some of the nuts and bolts of getting published and being published, about writers block, and distractions, and focusing energy.  There was little difference in the content and quality of the conversation from any discussion I’ve had with adult writers at the many conferences I’ve attended.  But there was a difference. Because these girls were writing only for the sake of writing.

At conferences, people fret about publishing and marketing, getting an agent, wonder about advances and word counts.   But the girls knew something that some writers never understand.  And they knew it long before I got there.  There is an awesome power in the written word.  Channeling it to create something is a reward in and of itself.

The act of finding your voice and narrating your existence –whether you do it through journaling, poetry, or fiction writing  -- is a way of claiming your life.  And if you can narrate your past, mine your emotions and experiences to understand them better, and create meaning, maybe you can write your future, too.   That’s the only thing I really wanted to tell them.  But, on a deep level, they already knew.

I had some email messages the following morning from Sue Cramer (Sue had invited me to come, and worked patiently with my manic mommy writer schedule until we found a date.  It took a year!)  and from Jeanne Chase who runs the poetry program at Brookwood.  They had so many kind words, and offered their thanks.  But the honor and the privilege was mine.  And I owe the girls a debt of gratitude for sharing their thoughts and hearts with me.  So, thanks, girls.  You were amazing, and I loved my time with you.

In the business of being a writer, it’s easy to be distracted from the true nature of story.  When we write, when we explore character, when draw from our experiences and emotions to tell a story well, we are delving into and trying to understand life. It’s why we write; it’s why people read – not to escape life, but to make sense of it. 

Young writers know that on an elemental level.  They feel it.  They’re not writing to sell or to pontificate.  They don’t have an agenda for the page, or a fear of not doing something better than anyone else.  They are writing for the sake of writing, to create, to express their inner selves.  And that’s a beautiful, powerful thing.  It’s life.  It’s the power of story.

 

The girls of Brookwood have published a book of poetry called Heart Beat, and you can read some of their gorgeous, raw and moving work by visiting http://www.brookwoodflorida.org/HeartBeats.html.

 

HANK:Thanks,Lisa. It's a life-changing thing you did..and those young women will never forget it. 

Lisa and  I are cooking up an event in her neck of the woods someday soon..hurray! But what would you tell a young writer? And I have a copy of Lisa's HEARTBROKEN to send to one lucky commenter!