Writing Hour with Amelia Loulli
13 November 2024
Prompt: Think of a time when you’ve ‘held your tongue’ – a situation where you’ve really wanted to say one thing, but for whatever reason said another. Write about that time – write about what you did say, what you would have really liked to say, and also about any other details that you can remember – where you were, sounds, sights, smells etc. Then see how the three aspects of that situation might talk to each other for a poem/piece of writing.
I’m taking a break from editing for a bit of a play in the writing sandbox. I’ve been poring over the end of my manuscript. With recent events it’s full of fury and the polish of some parts is giving way to the rawness of emotion in the moment. I think this befits the project over all, and I’ve been embracing such styles for the past five years. Perhaps by the time this post is published I’ll be reading the whole thing without stopping for edits, with maybe some light notetaking, so I’ll see how I feel about that then. It might need to be pared back, but it might also need to be said. Just yesterday for today-me I attended the funeral of author Laura Fish. I met Laura when she facilitated a writing course I took in early 2023 and she was one of the best teachers and facilitators I’ve encountered, and there have been plenty of greats. I once read a 500-word piece of flash I’d tried - something that I took out of my blended memoir manuscript and fictionalised. Laura challenged me to be bolder. It was on the cusp of really saying something. It needed a push to reach it. I played around with it some more and reinserted it into the opening chapter of part 3, ramping up to the story’s climax. I guess we’ll see whether it works when I use my Literary Consultancy free-read.
This is a roundabout way of getting to the prompt. When have I held my tongue? In my writing, quite a lot. On Laura’s advice I push myself more all the time. There are still things I hold back. Because I’m not ready. Because I’ve already said so much - too much. Because I’m worried readers will get bored and aren’t interested. Because it’s too painful, or worse, shameful. I have tried not to hold back and to put myself under the same level of scrutiny as others. I have tried to write with compassion even when my anger threatens to break me.
I seem to have been lying a lot recently. We ask each other how we are out of politeness so often. I always marvel when occasionally someone does not hold back in their response. The week I’m typing this I haven’t the energy to. I refrain from telling people my life story, but I’ve been honest that things aren’t good. As I’m typing my eyes are drooping with fatigue responding to my insomnia. I’m more alert in the mornings. Afternoons are hard when they feel like bedtime, you’ve been awake that long. My laptop camera encourages me not to fall asleep, although the internet is having its own bother staying awake.
But what am I not saying? In my manuscript I include indications that my memory might be addled and patchy. I’ve condensed some childhood memories to more efficiently create a mood or tone. I’ve cut down conversations to suggest the gist. I try to show rather than explain, and I’m not sure I always succeed. Then there are things I simply do not know.
I’m so tired I can’t think of the sensory information Amelia suggested. Perhaps this is another avenue of omission - fatigue and brain fog disrupting trains of thought and warping memories. The blanks really are blanks.
Also, it’s a store of material not giving everything away all at once. If this manuscript becomes a book, then wouldn’t it be nice for it to not be lonely when it’s no longer mine? But it must come to an end first before reaching that point. It must stop. It’ll only ever be incomplete, but it must stop. It’s been interrupted a lot. I lose concentration. I struggle to hold the thread of an idea when I’m this tired. Being this tired happens a lot. Just get through the hour and then go home. Rest and then maybe what falls through the gaps will come back. Or I’ll figure out how to say it, and where to put it, or if to say it and whether to add more in. Sometimes what’s not said or what might be shown to be misspoken can hold more meaning than just spitting it out.
So many decisions to make with words and when not to use them.