Lynn, I'm going to ponder it a bit because abuse is a deep subject and I'm on a time budget right now.
Dian's questions about the writing process you used deserve a thorough exploration.
The little bit I've written (to myself & potentially for a future attorney) have been extremely difficult to write. I could easily see it taking years (at the rate I'm going) and do your memories diminish with time? Or do scenes that you had forgotten 'flash' in at appropriate times?

Hi Dian and U, thank you for asking about the writing process. I don't know if a writer is born or made. I always thought that a person was born with a certain talent, but then, after reading "The Artist's Way" and "Vein of Gold" and "The Right to Write" by Julia Cameron I learned that anyone can develop a skill. First, let me say that I had an early desire to write, only I didn't know what I'd write about. Second, I heard time and again by teachers, "If you want to write, write about something you know about." Well, what I knew about was a childhood full of adversity. And I thought, "I can't write about that." In fact, I was a fully blocked writer, unable to come up with fiction. What I knew I could write was research, and I was one of those rare students who actually liked to do research and impart what I learned. Besides, research is safe: the writer is using another's material, without having to incorporate much original material. In college, I wrote a paper about my Italian cultural heritage (some of which is used in Beyond the Tears.) For example, I wrote about the game my uncles played called Bocci Ball, and the professor wrote in red ink, "What is your source of info?" She did that with every sentence that was of personal knowledge, including descriptions of food. When I discussed this with her (after discovering my new found assertiveness skills) she said she was not used to students incorporating personal, original material into papers. Instead of blocking me further, this actual helped me to realize I had something of interest to offer. Of course, she raised my grade after my explanation! I'm going to ponder your questions some more, and reply more extensively as the day progresses! Thank you so much for asking!

As for the writing process. First I’d like to write a few words as to what it isn’t, and then I’ll write more about what it is! And, I’m not good at generalizing for others, so this is just my personal experience with the writing process. The genesis for writing began when I produced sayings for cards for my mother because she was frequently sick. In 3rd grade I wrote a poem, which left a life-long impression on me about creativity: making something from nothing, and using words to boot! I wrote about what I loved, such as nature and animals. In 4th grade I started keeping a diary, but was too afraid of someone finding it to continue. I loved words and read the dictionary in 5th grade for a past time! I also loved to read, and loved books so much I would sleep with them by my pillow. When I was 12/13 I wrote book reports for my older brother, who had a job and went to school, so had little time. I was very concerned about vocabulary and punctuation. He got A’s for those reports and told me I had a talent, but I did not believe it was a talent because it seemed to come easily to me. (Math, on the other hand, caused nightmares because it was so hard!) I also had difficulty writing about summer vacations; that’s when I fictionalized what really happened at my father’s house. For example, instead of writing that I witnessed him beating my stepmother, I would write about a dress I had made as a burgeoning fashion diva. I wrote dark poetry in high school, some of which is in the book. I wonder if I would have written in another genre had my life not been altered by abusive events. Those abusive events caused a block in this way: I suddenly became afraid to write even term papers because if I started writing, what secret might sneak onto the page? When I was 15 I read a book titled “The Muckrakers” which was about social workers and journalists exposing child labor and helping to create laws to protect children. That’s when I knew that I wanted to write about the truth and help the vulnerable. I also wanted to be a psychiatrist so I could fix my family, but upon discovering I’d have to make friends with cadavers in medical school, I nixed that plan. In high school the only colleges I applied to and was accepted at were in Colorado (lo these many years later I am finally here.) My majors were to be English and Psychology, but I was too scared to go. Later, in college in Arizona, majoring in business in my twenties, I somehow used personal experiences to tie into term papers without revealing myself. For example, I would choose subjects such as suicide or schizophrenia. I was fortunate to receive accolades for writing (my papers being stored in the college library as examples) but I had such low self-esteem that I thought the professors were lying. I thought that my writing was so bad that they felt compelled to offer sympathy compliments. When I married that man Todd, I tried to keep journals, but he mocked my endeavors. I went through a long period of thinking that I had nothing interesting to write about, and no one would be interested in what I had to say. Thus, I remained blocked. So, what the writing process was not a smooth evolution, but fits and starts of interests and fears conflicting with desires. However, all of the above led to writing. I ended up combining all of the above interests in the writing process, including English, Psychology, Social Work, and Reviews (the genesis of that was book reports.)

Unique, may I ask what you are writing about for yourself and for attorneys? Dian, I am wondering if you finished the last two chapters. LLL

How did I organize my materials? I have to say that the book began ten years ago when I quit working in real estate and property management. We moved from California to Colorado, where we lived for two months in an apartment. My husband took the only car to work for 14 hours a day, so I had no job and no car and no interest. I’d been contemplating filing a stress case at the prior job, and I was recovering from an awful work experience. (I’m not playing the victim. The job was high-stress, low-pay in a hostile environment, and I had only half the coping mechanisms that I have now.) Anyway, I had nothing better to do than to sort through whatever journals had survived the years, along with the scraps of paper stuck inside those journals with various notes to myself. I had a computer, and I transferred all the hand-written stuff onto word processing, without editing or stopping to think. I was, for the first time, not censoring or critiquing my words or myself. I just copied. When I was tired of that I would make lists pertaining to what I copied. For example, if I’d come across a diary of the house in New Jersey, I would sit quiet and allow myself to contemplate what else I remembered. Sometimes I would concentrate on the scene and draw a floor plan of the house. Then I would list the contents, without making sentences. For a break I would take a walk. Just walking without expectation of exercise was also new to me. When my husband’s manager development program ended in Denver, he was transferred to Dallas.

In Dallas, I was also alone all day without a job or a car. This was important to my recovery from my childhood. I no longer had to “make nice” with service oriented jobs, so my guard was down. I picked up “The Artist’s Way” by Julia Cameron. She tells readers to take on 3 tasks to boost their creative energies: write 3 full pages stream-of-consciousness each morning, take a walk every day, and go on an excursion alone once a week. All of the above led to my unconscious seeping into consciousness, and I began to remember more than I had in years. Now I wrote what I hadn’t dared to write in the early diaries, and I did so in the stream-of-consciousness without censor. Sometimes I’d be at it 12 hours a day, unable and unwilling to let the memory rest. I wanted to remember the truth. The discipline came in doing the 3 pages every day, taking a walk, and going on an excursion, even if it was walking to the book store or to collect sunflowers. That’s also when I started painting, which provided an emotional balance for me after recalling abusive incidents from childhood. After 6 months, my husband was transferred to Kansas City.

We bought a house in Kansas City. I set up a writing room, which had a grove of trees right up to the window. I had a rocking chair and a computer. One of my eccentricities is that I must have a rocking chair in order to think! Well, I was all set up to become a writer. Except that sometimes I chose to clean the grout, sweep the basement, scour the sink, strip the wallpaper, paint the wall, and rake the leaves, anything to avoid the topics that were evolving on that computer! Yet, I kept up the discipline of writing 3 pages first thing every morning, taking a walk every day (weather related) and going on an outing alone, which happened to be a watercolor class. I had no desire to go back to work, but I did go back to therapy. I was grateful for the opportunity to live the life of a writer, but I was sabotaging myself day in and day out. One day, I was in the shower, squatting to scrape the old grout from between the tiles, and I had a revelation. This is not what I was supposed to be doing with my time! I was supposed to be writing! That’s when structure came into the picture.

I spent so much time reading about writing that I decided it was time to stop prepping and get to the task.

Some memories did diminish over time and I relied on my journal to recollect. For example, there is a section in my book about drug abuse. I would like to forget that I was ever involved with drugs. But it is an essential part of a story about abusive childhoods because it is common for the abused child to choose drugs as a means of escape. I had notes stuck in an old journal about what it was like to use drugs, and I was able to use those notes. I remember the day I wrote those notes about 30 years ago! It was very painful to write that I’d done drugs, and how I did them, and with whom. Other prompts to my memory were songs and pictures, dreams and meditations.

Other memories did not diminish over time. In fact, some memories became clear, and yes, sometimes I had flashbacks, but not necessarily when I chose. Some flashbacks were so extreme I had to have emergency counseling sessions.

The discipline came in NOT letting anything get away. No more could I tell myself that I would save this scene to write about later, or I’ll jot down this thought tomorrow. I recall being in the movie theater seeing “Good Will Hunting” when a thought surfaced, and I pulled out my notebook to write it down. Good thing I did, because I would have forgotten it by the time I got out of the movies. Same thing with dreams, turning on the light to write about what I’d just dreamt.

I have no children, and my husband does not expect dinner. Therefore, I had no interruptions. In fact, sometimes he brought me dinner because I was so possessed with writing. I had so much stored up that wanted to get out, and the fact that I was writing a book was always on my mind.

Other disciplines seem obvious, but worth mentioning. We had many school children in the neighborhood in Kansas City, and they frequently came to the door selling candy for school trips. Well, that doorbell would break my focus. So I stopped myself from feeling obligated to answer the door by disengaging the doorbell. I would also unplug the phone.

Most times, the writing was a daunting task. Sometimes I needed to “warm up” to the writing, so I would write a letter to a friend. I would bargain with myself to complete a certain portion of a chapter. If I would write for one hour, I could start a painting. But once I sat down to write, three hours would fly by. And still, I was not censoring. All the while I allowed myself to write stream-of-consciousness. Until the editing stage.

Wow! When it lets loose, it really lets loose, doesn't it? I've read Julia Cameron, too. The 'Right to Write' first and then 'Vein of Gold'. Too bad they're the library's -- I had to give them back. LOL! RE: me & attorney's, I know I'll have to file for divorce some day. I know he's too cheap to hire one. NC is one of those "wonderful" 50/50 states. Truth is - he's gotten more than he deserved from me and I think if I have all the facts down, I can get a ruling for what's called Unequitable Distribution - meaning...you got yours dude, we're skipping 50/50 . Our relationship was always 90/10 - - maybe 80/20 when things were 'going good' that's what I meant.