I took seven-and-a-half-years to write my novel, Sons of the Edisto.
Like a friendship begun in childhood, I have scribbled different narratives and poems about my journey from journalism into motherhood and teaching. It might sound mundane at first, but …
Some had to do with my relationship with my husband.
Some poems were about my daughter and breastfeeding.
Other poems covered the struggle of facing an economy indifferent to those who struggle with medical and their jobs.
A few covered the journey from losing our home to becoming a student and teacher.
Some dealt with the struggle faced with anger, alcohol, and food to move on to a place of peace.
Many poems deal with raising a son with autism, ADHD, and a developmental delay. I debated about what to call the manuscript for it, so I decided to name it Never Saw Jesus in the Mirror.
Last summer, I began organizing the poems into chapters beginning with the poem I read in last week’s blog. I chose to do them chronologically, and I am working to make them flow together. I found it harder to write a straight up narrative. The more I write narrative poetry the more the story comes out.
I will continue working on it even as a I work as a teacher, mother, and wife. I know there are different poems that go beyond me and show with what others have faced.