November | 2012 | Lisa Stowe – The Story River Blog

Every November, people ask ‘what are you thankful for?’ and then go on to list all the things they are thankful for. I hate to admit it, but I cringe every time I hear that question.

First off, the word ‘thankful’ bugs me. It implies a sense of humbleness in the person asking the question, which is then sometimes missing in their answer. Most times their lists sound more like bragging. It reminds me of an old comic of a woman standing very proudly, wearing a sign that reads ‘I’m more humble than you’. But that’s the cynical side of me that sometimes rears up.

Is ‘grateful’ a better word? I’m more comfortable with that. A little.

I heard someone today say she was thankful she was a cancer survivor. That she’d won the battle. ‘Survivor’ and ‘battle’ bug me, too. I never felt like I was battling something, and don’t feel I have the right to wear a badge of ‘survivor’ and proclaim it to everyone like I had anything to do with winning a war. What I did was hunker down, withdraw, isolate with my husband and son, and wait out the time until treatments convinced the cancer to move on. I didn’t fight anything.

Am I thankful the cancer moved on? Am I thankful writing came back? Or thankful for all the things we always list to answer that too-common question? Family, friends, loved ones, a roof over our heads, food on the table, etc… Of course I am.

I just wish there was a word that was stronger. Not so common. Maybe it’s time to pull out the thesaurus.

It is in the nature of writers to worry a word, like a dog does a bone, or a cat does a mouse.

So until something better comes to mind I guess I have to say it. I’m thankful.

Well, grateful.

Hmmm. Appreciative?

Interestingly enough, if you look up ‘thankful’ in the thesaurus, one word that come up is ‘beholden’. Now that resonates with me. Beholden. I guess thankful feels like I’ve earned something while ‘beholden’ implies something more along the lines of gratitude.

The things that mean the most to me are not things I have earned. They are gifts. And for that I am beholden.

And now I’m done worrying the word. Unless some of you have suggestions to replace ‘thankful’ with. Or share with me the things you are grateful for. I’d love to hear that; I just don’t want to ask you what you’re thankful for!

I don’t have a photo of a turkey, so hopefully this one of a wild fool’s hen that visited one day will suffice.

I just read in the news that author Philip Roth is ‘done with writing’. I had to laugh because my first thought was, ‘that’s what you think’ followed by ‘but is writing done with you?’.

The sequel to the Memory Keeper is done. The first draft actually. Which means now it sits for a while and then I start the editing process. This story was a struggle from beginning to end and I am very happy to have it on paper. I had to remind myself often that this was the first new thing I’d written since cancer, and the first thing after a two-year break. The break was due to the fallout from radiation and many times I thought writing would never come back. So while this first draft is very rough and there will be a lot of editing to do, I am so relieved that I finished. That writing not only returned but stuck around.

Now I have a new idea that I’m excited about. You know that feeling…when the idea has been kind of simmering in the background and now your fingers are just itching to get going. I had to force myself to not rush the ending on that sequel just to get it done so I could move on to what is going to be fun. I had to rein in that strong urge, that strange force that seems to push the story into you until you have to let it out through your fingers or your brain will explode.

Which leads me back to Philip Roth. I wonder how a person can make a conscious decision to quit something that is part of your creative psyche. It’s not like he’s going to now move through life and not see stories everywhere. So what will he do with those stories if he’s not going to be their channel to the page?

I wonder that with all forms of art. Can a painter decide one day to simply quit? Will their eyes no longer see beauty? I actually interviewed an artist who no longer paints and she told me she quit because she no longer felt the need to possess. That painting, to her, was capturing and holding. So obviously some people can shut off that creativity.

But writing? Maybe stories can leave a person, but I question a person being able to leave a story. Seems like they ‘d just spontaneously explode. Hope someone keeps an eye on Mr. Roth.

No particular connection between the photo below and this post. Other than it’s the perfect spot to write and across the road from my house.