It happens from time to time that I lose myself inside myself and I must search for the little bits scattered about to remind me of who I am... To remember the things that inspire me to create.
Poetry, a photo, a note tucked into my journal: These things eventually lead me back to my own unique voice.
"Like Raymond Carver I also have a photograph of my father. I found it last night whilst sorting through boxes looking for Christmas ornaments. It's a photo I had put away intentionally, buried deep under old work files and papers I had written in college. A photo that I had no desire to see again.
This picture was not given by him. My aunt had given it to me when I turned seventeen. "You look so much like your father," she had said, and I remember feeling the creep of discomfort, looking away. I didn't know how to respond. As I recall I mumbled something about my uncle telling me that before. She went on as I sat in awkward silence, her tone collusive; the family was just outside on the patio and this was forbidden conversation." A Photograph of My Father
The Commitment to Write
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