Sharon Wildwind

You can’t knead bread dough or writing into submission.

~Sharon Wildwind, mystery writer

On Thursday, August 10, 1978, I started keeping a journal. It began as a very proper book, words only, in a certain kind of black journal, written with a certain black ink fountain pen. Nothing obsessive, compulsive here, no, not at all. It took me eight months to before I dared add a small diagram of a garden I planned to plant.

At the start of this year, I opened Book 51 of that journal. Over the past 29+ years, I’m happy to say that the journal overcame its pure black beginnings. Book 51 contains drawings, photographs, art work, and scraps of ephemera. When I realized I was writing the same headings at the beginning of each entry, I had two rubber stamps made. One says simply “Day and Date.” The second one has key words that I use as a framework for starting an entry.

In the beginning, I promised myself I would do one thing:

Write everything, erase nothing.~Natalie Goldberg, writer and teacher

I’m very proud that I’ve kept that promise to. It’s all there: the angst, the outright depression, the anger, the dreams and nightmares, the sexual fantasies, the struggle to grow and understand, the triumphs, and the silly, embarrassing things that no one, absolutely no one, will read until I’m long gone.

Yesterday I started an exciting second life for my old journals. I’ve found a journaling program that works on MacIntosh and I intend to convert all of the previous handwritten entries into an electronic format. I promised my husband, the historian, that I would not alter one thing as I transcribed it. Misspelled words stay misspelled; meandering sentence continues to meander. But—I say with a gleam in my eye—we agreed I could add commentary and additional material, like photographs.

If things go well, I figure it will take me about a year to keyboard all the entries. It’s amazing how fast doing this goes once I sat down to do it. For a writer, this is like discovering a mother load. No doubt some fiction will come out of it. I’ll let you know how it goes.

What you put on your back influences what you feel inside.

Thirty years ago, I participated in a weekend workshop on soft toy making. We were test driving patterns for an art professor at the local university. At the end of the day, Dr. Duffey shyly took out a large white box. She said, “I’d like to branch out from toys. Do you think there might be a market for this?”

This was the most exquisite white-on-white vest I’d every seen. Every inch was covered with lace, pearls, ribbon, embroidery, and applique. Keep in mind that this was long before the current fascination with art clothing and magazines such as Belle Armoire. At that time, clothing “embellishment” meant embroidered mirrors on bell-bottoms or tie-dyed T-shirts.

She picked me to model the vest, and slipped in on over my shoulders. The thing must have weighed five pounds. As soon as it was in place, I swear I had visions. An entire fantasy rolled through my mind involving a haughty queen and a curse, and a band of women who came together to free the queen.

That was the day I realized that writers—especially those who write fantasies or historical pieces—need a costume trunk. If you’re stuck in the middle of a story, try dressing like your character, even if it’s just putting on a hat, feather boa, or piece of jewelry.

As far as I know, Dr. Duffey never branched out into clothing. I’ve always felt that was a terrible shame.