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Kelly Thompson is currently working on a memoir, the story of one woman's journey of single teenage motherhood and out of her family's fundamentalist cult. Persistence in the face of poverty, silence, and erasure ends in identity and power for the narrator and her descendants. Kelly's work has been published or anthologized in BOMB, LARB, VIDA Review, Guernica, Electric Literature, Entropy, Fatal Flaw, Oh Comely, The Rattling Wall, Dove Tales, The Rumpus, Proximity, The Writing Disorder, Witchcraft, Manifest Station, 49 Writers, Coachella Review, Lady Liberty Lit, and other literary journals. She is also the curator for the highly regarded 'Voices on Addiction' column at The Rumpus. Kelly lives in Denver, Colorado in the sunshine of the spirit. You can follow her on Twitter @stareenite.

Point of View

Point of View
and if you wanted to drown you could, but you don’t...~David Whyte

Saturday, December 7, 2013

From This Broken Hill

     
     If It Be Thy Will by Leonard Cohen has been speaking to me lately and I recommend listening to the song (posted below.)

     I am writing memoir and Cohen's song pretty much describes my writing process.  A memoir involves taking the stuff of one's life, as though clay, and creating a third thing with it, hopefully art.  It involves telling the truth, a loaded subject in the world of publishing over the past decade (another blog post altogether.)  
 
    I agree with those who say truth is critical in memoir. However, it is emotional honesty I am striving for; no, not striving, rather, it is being demanded. It is not facts I am concerned with or some chronological rendering of the events of my life, it is some deeper truth.

      I now understand what writers over the ages have referred to as the muse.  My muse requires from me not only honesty, but a true voice, although I am writing from a broken hill, as Cohen sings.  I am writing to end the night...to let the rivers fill.  I am not in charge.  The muse is and for that, I am grateful.

     Each day, before writing, I light a candle.  I play this song.  I ask that mercy spill onto the page, that my burning heart be made well. I ask that the tattered rags of memory be clothed in light.  I ask to be let to sing.

     If it be Thy will.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hNfNdflTs5E&feature=player_embedded