INSIGHT | COLUMNS & GUIDANCE Telling the Story that Wants to be Told by Suzanne Vadnais Monson Each month when I sit down to address the theme for the upcoming issue of The EDGE, I always have a story in mind. I start writing the piece I think is perfect for the topic and as I'm working, inevitably, another story gets told. As a writer, I've struggled with this. Every writing teacher I've had has made this one rule crystal clear: start with a topic, an outline and write a first draft. Choose carefully, stay on target and rewrite for clarity. My experience with my EDGE stories has been the mirror opposite of this golden rule. In fact, what I'm discovering is that I have very little to do with the story that will be told. My job, as a writer, is to tell the story that is waiting to be told. Of course this is not the easiest thing to do. All of my training as a writer, all of my human need to believe I'm in control, and all of the concern I have for being branded as a self-help writer gets in my way. I am drawn to write stories about my experiences with child abuse and the ways in which this has shaped me. Child abuse is a very murky area for publishers. Sensational stories sell well, voyeuristic stories sell well, stories that ask people to dig deep and look into their own lives...well, they don't always sell so well. Writing for closure For more than 20 years, my fear of telling my stories kept me from publishing them. I wrote them, a lot of them, and shared them with my friends. I didn't want to publish them. I wrote for therapy, for closure, for the powerful healing that accompanies catharsis. I felt bad asking anyone to read my stories. I didn't feel I had the right to ask people to feel the pain I had felt. I didn't want to make people cry. I really didn't want to talk about how awful it had been. And there was this: to write the stories, I have to go back into them. I was terrified of doing this. I started slowly. I took a wonderful class at The Loft about five years ago in crafting Creative Nonfiction. Memoir writing was sweeping the country and all kinds of poignant human stories were being published because of the enthusiasm for Angela's Ashes. I found the courage to share a few of my tough stories with the class and a handful of friends. Then I put them in a hard plastic magazine case and placed them on the shelf, relieved to be finished. The next class that spoke to me was a workshop offered through the University of Minnesota on publishing a non-fiction book. I loved the class and developed my book idea, which talked about how to celebrate surviving a difficult childhood. I didn't want to write a tough book. I wanted to write a light and playful book, a gift to all survivors, something that showed ways to lighten our load and celebrate who we are. In the process of working on this book, I learned there was something very different waiting to be created. Inspirational paragraphs Even though I wasn't sure what I was building, I wrote anyway, stockpiling my inspirational paragraphs in a manila folder. During the next year, I married each piece to a whimsical collage, creating a work that was both healing and playful, my enrichuals© cards. When the cards were published in February, I felt like I'd given birth to the most beautiful baby I could ever imagine. I cried when I held my first deck in my hands, knowing all of the faith it took to trust the guidance that brought them to me. In February, I wrote my first article for The EDGE. It was a playful piece, an easy one to write. I thought I was on a roll. The next article, Listen to the Landscape, was much more difficult. After struggling to write a cheery piece about my connection to Nature, I wrote a story in my journal that became the piece I published. It is a story about how my connection to Nature helped me begin to heal. I held my breath when I submitted it. I expected to hear this piece was too heavy for The EDGE. What happened instead was a thank you from the editor and a smattering of e-mails and phone calls from complete strangers telling me how much the story moved them when it was published. Creative healing A little success is the best antidote to fear. Today, I am writing the book I set out to create, using my powerful stories blended with my inspirational ideas for creative healing. My ongoing interaction with people around the world who share their enthusiasm for my work helps me get out of the way and write the story that wants to be written. I'm learning that I not only have the right to tell these stories, it is some of my best work and it helps people heal in ways I never imagined were possible. The real reward for me is witnessing how learning to write from my heart has impacted my life. Just as I'm learning how to get out of the way of the story that wants to be told, I'm learning to get out of the way of the life that wants to be lived. I thought I knew what my best life looked like. I thought I had the theme, the outline and the clear copy firmly in hand. Guess what? I had no idea what was waiting for me. A few years ago that would have bothered me deeply. Today I know my best shot at living an authentic life is to stand knee-deep in fear and ask for guidance. And you know, this excites me. The glimpses I've had of this true-to-my-soul life and the peace that accompanies it are all I need to keep up the hard work. I am grateful each and every day that I get to be a part of this learning. Suzanne Vadnais Monson is the owner of Come Out and Play, a business dedicated to developing the creative conditions for living our best lives. Her deck of 64 simple ceremony and playful practice cards is available for $24 at a number of Twin Cities retailers of directly from the author. Call (715) 294-4522 or email her for information on her products and intuitive art retreat series. Copyright © 2001 Suzanne Vadnais Monson