A Night of Storytelling and Poetry

Last night, I had the pleasure of listening to distinguished professor of English and poetry, Nikki Giovanni, talk about her life, her family, Virginia Tech, the importance of the arts in young peoples' lives and what it means to be a citizen.

Giovanni talked about loss as only a daughter who has lost a mother can. She told a moving story about losing her mother, her older sister and a beloved aunt in six months. When her sister was diagnosed with metastasized lung cancer, her mother fell. Giovanni told of getting a call when she was in Arizona asking her to return to Roanoke immediately, because her mother "was dying." She spoke with her sister and a doctor, both who told her the same thing: Her mother was dying. Giovanni fired the doctor, called another one she trusted, and flew all night to get home. The new doctor greeted her, gave her an update on her mother's condition and said her mother "was dying."

Giovanni realized her mother couldn't bear the thought of burying her daughter and decided to die. And she did. Giovanni talked about wanting to take some time off to recover, but wondered how and when she would take time on. She didn't stop writing or teaching. Her emotion over her mother's passing in 2005 felt as fresh as if it happened yesterday. She reminded us through her tears that a woman rarely if ever gets over the loss of a mother.

On the lighter side, Giovanni talked about getting her way at Virginia Tech when she wanted to take 56 students to a poetry reading. She convinced the president to give her a bus. She still has use of the bus and takes her students to other poetry readings to emphasize that they should never be far from art in their lives.

On a note that didn't go over well with the conservative crowd, Giovanni said we Americans don't pay enough taxes. Her activist message was we are all members of a community and should be taking care of each other. The way to do that is to pay more in taxes. Most of the rich cats in the audience didn't agree. This not-rich cat did.

What did I learn from last night's readings? Let your emotions show. Don't be afraid to be happy or sad. Grieve and move on, but don't forget. Look around us. Others need our help. Pay your share and help. You can get your way if you make your case well. It helps to be an alpha female, which Giovanni is.

She left everyone in the audience with plenty to think about.

Writing About Handling Grief

I find it hard to know how far to go in writing about grief in fiction. Too little, and the rendition is shallow. Too much, and it's maudlin. I struggle with finding the balance, as I think many writers do. I began reading more books, mostly memoirs, by people who have struggled with grieving and moving on. Two I have returned to many times.

Making Toast by Roger Rosenblatt is his touching, funny and sad story of losing his daughter when she suddenly drops dead on the treadmill of an asymptomatic heart condition. She leaves three young children and a bewildered husband, who finds his life to be impossible. Rosenblatt and his wife move into the in-law apartment in their son-in-law's house to help raise three children. Rosenblatt himself had travelled as a journalist and, as a result, had been away too much to help with the day-to-day rearing of his own children. He masters one task in his new life: making toast every morning to meet the different and exacting demands of the children.

His story provides a guide to managing a new life against the darkness of loss. It is filled with vignettes of how he learns as much about himself as he does about his grandchildren.

Joan Didion was eating dinner one evening when her husband died at the table of a stroke. In The Year of Magical Thinking she discusses her denial of what happened with living a life without her husband. Again Didion's writing honestly of her pain and grief is offset by snippets of humor.

Not to make light of real grief and loss, I too struggled with how much to show when Mad Max loses her daughter in Book 1 of the Mad Max Mystery series. How do I convey the depth of her denial and pain? How do I lighten the mood for the children? I didn't want the book to descend into darkness and stay there, but I wanted the darkness to be just under the surface, ready to re-emerge when needed.

Now as I edit Book 2, the darkness is still there, sometimes discussed, never forgotten. A different kind of darkness enters Book 2. In one episode, Max confronts a memory from her childhood she would rather forget. It forms how she reacts when one of her grandchildren is put in jeopardy.

Last year, one member of my writing group gave me great advice. He told me I had to go to the "dark places within" and return to use the emotions to show what my main character was enduring. I'd rather not do that; however, he is right. I can take inspiration from others who have published guideposts on managing grief, but I can never make it feel real to my readers without returning from my own dark places.

Why didn't I decide to be a humor writer?