Suffice it to say that I cannot believe that you are reading this right now. Not because I am questioning your ability to read, rather because posting a blog is not something I ever in ten thousand years would have envisioned myself doing. I've long been a proponent of the Luddite philosophy of less is more when it comes to technology(minus their tendency towards violence), and despite many people's queries as to whether I have a website( I don't) or a blog, only now do I finally feel comfortable with the idea of sharing my thoughts in this very public manner.
SO here goes:
It took me a very loooong time to think of myself as a writer. The very first piece of writing ever to move beyond the confines of my journal dealt with my angst of opening my heart to a world I wasn't sure would receive it. Luckily I had the good fortune of meeting up with a plucky gal/ artist/promoter of the arts named Becka Viau who was looking for someone with a bit of heart (me) to share words on her brand new site in support of the local arts and cultural community in our little town. As one of three inaugural contributors to thistownissmall.wordpress.com I was given the freedom and more importantly, a place to share my voice. Read my inaugural piece here: http://thistownissmall.wordpress.com/2010/02/24/11/#more-11
For that opportunity I will be forever grateful, and for the tumble-bumble sort of way I came to meet Becka through my youngest sister Janeen ( whom I adore) I will forever be in awe. Mystery unfolds destiny.
At around the very same time I was sharing tea and conversation with a former University Professor of mine Dr. David Weale, only he wouldn't like that I just introduced him as Dr. He is not that kind of guy. He wouldn't even like for me to call him a storyteller extraordinaire or "Keeper of the Island Way". Nope! Not in need of a whole lot other than the basics is he...love...freedom to think...the ability to create...certainly not anything that would build the mighty ego! Forget that. But through the course of those sweet and thoughtful conversations over tea in early 2009 he came to tell me that he was thinking about creating an Island magazine with content by Islanders, for Islanders. Just the Christmas before he had met his delightful daughter in law artist Chloe Cork's parents and been introduced to a mag they publish in Ontario and he fell in love with the concept and format.
Now when we (David and I) became re-acquainted the fall prior thanks to a discussion at the Confederation Center Christmas Craft Fair about David and Chloe's wonderful children's book Doors in the Air, David invited me to a meeting of a little group of people (Shorewalkers). The group had originally come together to discuss another eminently readable book about spirit and place by David Weale called Chasing the Shore. At the time the group met biweekly at a local convent to talk in an open manner about matters of spirit. They were (and continue to be) a most welcoming and open group of people who have brought both me and my amazing husband Paul much goodness since we first met with them. Wisdom sharing no holds barred. It was here that I first began to feel that I might have a voice worth sharing with the world, here that I was invited to read aloud words by others and words of my own and here that I was really encouraged to share my writing.
I do not have words to express the safety and goodness of these people.I travel through my days with their strength close to my heart to shore me up.
Through the course of our early emails David had come to see that I love to write and he gave me the fantastic opportunity of writing for the inaugural issue of his new Island mag which he and his son Davy and daughter in law Chloe created called RED magazine. Trouble was that despite his faith in my writing ability I had little faith myself, and even less experience. And so after many miserable attempts to come up with a fantastic piece for the mag, my first big rejection came in a little corner office on the corner of Water and Prince Streets; David's office he held for the Festival of Small Halls. It was a gentle rejection, as gentle as rejection goes because David is a very gentle guy, but the humiliation I felt was a deep one. I had let down a man who showed his faith in me as a beginning writer, and even more I had let myself and my family of supporters down. This was going to be the new me; Jill redefined. A Jill of endless possibility.... and it ended before it even began. But wait...that was a beginning....just as this first blog post is a beginning...and in the beginning things aren't always pretty or neat. Just think of childbirth, the beginnings of my three beautiful children were absolutely miraculous and not very pretty at all.
And yes, I did have a first story published in that inaugural issue of RED in the autumn of 2010. It was entitled REJECTED by RED...a fine piece of writing that came flowing out of a pile of tears and snot after I left that little corner office! And thankfully David continues to mentor me, humoring, even honoring my humble offerings!
Listening to my inner spirit stirrings, trusting in the likely goodness of others and taking a great big flying leap- of- a- chance with myself has only ever led to the most ridiculously amazing things becoming manifest in my own life! This universe of which I am a paltry, albeit lively part is a strangely demanding and endlessly fascinating creature. I am just glad that I am here now in it...with you.
Jill
A good enough start for sure!!
Love to you Paul Christian for thinking I could even while I wasn’t…
