I think a passionate writer might reply, "Where do you think your love of breathing comes from?" For me, writing isn't a silly little hobby to while away the still moments. I don't do it to humor anyone. No one makes me do it. And though I hope to make a living from it one day soon (and quit my day job!), I would still continue writing even if I had no hope of ever making a dollar from it. I HAVE to write, like any other devoted creator or artist (If you have a writer or artist close to you, this is an important thing for you to realize!). One way or another, I have always found an outlet for it. I published my first poem in the local paper in first grade, and wrote my first fiction story at age 10.
Even so, I could also answer, "Writing is in my blood." You see, I come from a couple generations of writers.
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| Books by my mom (now Bobbie Taylor) and dad (Ray Kilgore) |
My father, Albert Ray Kilgore (he went by "Ray"), spent his life studying philosophy. Though he died in a plane crash when I was three years old, he had written a book, The Fire of Heracleitus, which my mother self-published for him just after he died. This relatively short book follows a character, named Heracleitus, as he first renounces the world he knew and retreats to a mountain cave to probe his own mind in solitude. Then, upon reaching an enlightened state, he goes back to his people to share his enlightenment. Interspersed with poetry, the philosophies are part Pyrrhonistic observations of the the changing world, the death and rebirth of both your sense of self and the world around you into something better, and part Libertarian virtues about improving oneself without interference from those who would put up obstacles to it. I have to admit, having only studied the basics of philosophy in college, a lot of it surely goes over my head. As my Dad wrote in the preface page, "This little book, written during the winter of 1959, incorporates most of the philosophical ideas of my youth." He also published several magazine articles on flying and about a Western ghost town.
My mother, Bobbie Taylor, is also a writer. Throughout her life she has loved New Age philosophies and alternative explanations for the world. When I was a late teen, she was laid off from her career in banking. To make ends meet for a while, she pursued self-employment in digging and wholesale selling of quartz crystals (we lived in Arkansas at the time, where quartz crystals are mined). But she didn't feel they were just pretty semi-precious stones. She believes that quartz crystals and other such gemstones hold special properties. So she wrote and self-published an 11-page booklet entitled Crystal - The New Frontier about those special properties. In her words, from the forward in the book, "crystal is a tool we may use to amplify and focus our own mental and spiritual abilities." She also published a bit of poetry and a couple magazine articles on crystals and recipes.
Along the same New Age line of thinking, my mother has also believed that the prophesies of Nostradamus hold important information, if only they could be correctly interpreted and ordered. It took a couple decades of her working at it and studying Nostradamus's quatrains, but in 2004 she wrote up what she had learned and self-published, online, a book entitled, Nostradamus and His Prophecy Puzzle, It's Never Been Solved. If the topic interests you, and you think you might be able to build upon her findings to finish decoding his riddles, I invite you to download her book for free online HERE.
And then there's my maternal grandmother, Verna Lee Hinegardner. Grandma was a poet. In her lifetime she published 13 poetry books and chapbooks, some of which can be found for sale, used, on Amazon, and had her poetry included in many poetry anthologies. She was named by then-Governor Bill Clinton to the post of Poet Laureate of Arkansas, in 1991, which was supposed to be a lifetime post (though Governor Huckabee broke that tradition by naming another, much more Conservative poet to the position in 2003 over the objections of Arkansas poetry societies). Grandma served all sorts of positions with national and Arkansas state poetry societies. She invented a poetry form called the "minute" form. She won many, many awards, including being inducted into the Arkansas Writers Hall of Fame in 1991, and a $25K family reunion in 1985. And for 22 years she published a weekly poetry section, called "Kaleidoscope," in the local newspaper (the Sentinel-Record). One of her proudest accomplishments was that she delighted in judging poetry contests for children for over two decades.
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| Thirteen poetry books and chapbooks by my grandma, Verna Lee Hinegardner. |
My Grandma inspires me not just from her accomplishments, but because of the obstacles she overcame. She had severe rheumatoid arthritis which caused a lot of pain. By the time I was in college, my Grandma's hands were gnarled looking with large knuckles, bruising, and swelling. It hurt for her to type, and handwriting was even harder. But even worse than this, she went through a series of serious strokes that nearly killed her, and she lost the ability to read! But against all odds, she taught herself to read again and continued writing poetry, publishing books, and both entering and judging contests. It was incredible. When times are bad for me and it's difficult to write, I just think about the inspiration of my Grandma, and then it doesn't seem so hard.
Not long before she passed away, Grandma was interviewed by a local paper, when she was 92 years old. ″My goal is simple,” she said. “I want to write poetry that is easy to understand and hard to forget.” And it was. Her poetry didn't mess around with highly experimental forms or delve deep into symbolism. It wasn't esoteric. You didn't leave her verses scratching your head and wondering what the hell she meant. No, her poetry was mainly about family, living in the South, and old-fashioned values. Most of it was warm. Much of it was funny. And all of it reverberated with her. HERE is a video of Grandma, from that interview, reading a spoof she wrote of one of Robert Frost's famous poems:
What about you? Does writing run in your family? Please leave a comment, below!
Cheers and happy reading!
