The Joy of Writing

Finding a title that is unique yet sufficiently carrotish is quite a challenge but sometimes we succeed and that is part of the thrill I get from my writing. Not that I think today's title is that great but at least it suggests my topic and is an allusion to The Joy of Sex, an alluring title if there ever was one.
For me, writing of my past, my experiences, my family, my hopes, my dreams is all manna. I especially like to write things that touch my soul deeply such as my stories of Ross, or my Mom. The fact that they are both gone allows me to reach deep inside and pull out those words that are rich with meaning and help me express my loss. Maybe that's why people often write better after they have experienced a few things. Interestingly, when my eyes are crying with sadness--or with joy--expression comes easily without so many stops to pause and think of the sense of the thing or the best word for what I mean.
And when the piece is done, through wet eyes I reread, revise, revisit the emotions because that is the only way I can reach those people now. But isn't that wonderful? Isn't that ability to remember loved ones through writing absolutely cool? I mean, imagine if we just lost people and gradually our memories slipped further and further into the past, never to be revisited, and eventually to just wisp away like ashes in the wind. Now, THAT is a sad thought.
When I write of my husband and my children, my extended family and all our collective quirks, I experience an inner happiness that keeps me going. I think of Kevin and his way of laughing as he jumped excitedly in his jolly jumper--he still has that joy. And of Beth, whose sense of humour and love of acting the clown resonate with every wide-eyed grin. The thing I absolutely adore about my Ron is that he has never lost his child-like delight in the world around him and his ability to share it with everyone. What a sense of satisfaction and, yes, joy I get when I write of them all.
I know, I know. I need to move past these topics and try for creativity instead of reality and sometimes I do but really I write for me. For the experience of reliving my life, working out my thoughts, refuelling my brain. I write for the joy of writing.