Slide Shows of Time - A Past Not Forgotten
Jamieson Villeneuve
April 24, 2007
Lately, I’ve been writing a memoir for The Friday Project based on a blog I maintain called One Step at a Time. Having never written a memoir before, I wasn’t sure what to expect when I began. After writing thirty pages I realized that I was in for more than I had bargained for. I’ve always immersed myself in the land of fiction where I could make up my own worlds and be as free as I wish. I find the land of non-fiction binding and somewhat uncomfortable.
While my blog is about living with Cerebral Palsy, the memoir is about everything in my upbringing. I grew up in an abusive home and debated about whether or not to leave all of that out of the memoir. But after careful reasoning I realized that I couldn't. That bit of my past is as much a part of who I am as the Cerebral Palsy is. I can't tell one without the other.
Thus far it's been gruelling work. The more I write, the more I have been remembering. There's stuff coming back that I've had blocked for years: my first time on ice skates; the first book I ever read; a memory of my mother leaving and the smell of her perfume in the air; the first time I held my younger brother; the last time I saw my brothers and sister.
One of the things that came back was a memory of reading Lost Souls by Poppy Z. Brite. I remembered looking at the author bio and seeing that she was 25 years old. I remember being amazed by this; that someone could write wish such poise and vigour at such a young age. The novel enthralled me, enraptured me and I spent several years afterwards reading any vampire fiction I could get my hands on. But all of it paled in comparison to Lost Souls.
Years later, when I was finally becoming serious about my writing, I came across my beaten up copy of the book and read that author bio again. I resolved, half-heartedly, to have a book published before I was thirty. I figured 25 would be too young and not everyone can be lucky enough to publish a book at such a young age. With my background, I was anything but lucky.
But I figured that even Fate couldn't begrudge me the age of 30; even she wouldn't be that fickle.
After a few years, I forgot about that goal, that dream that had been set in the fires of the past. I wrote. First trying my hand at poetry, then Fan Fiction (I have a few Harry Potter stories I am particularly proud of) and then branching out into my own short stories and attempts at novels. All the while, that little seed of a dream was thriving in the back of my head and my imagination.
I was taking a shower this morning when, for no reason I can name, I thought of Lost Souls and that promise to myself. Sure, I have self-published work, but the goal set back then was to have one of my books published by someone else by the time I was thirty. Incredibly, that dream is about to come true.
It's rather humbling, having your past show you something that you had forgotten. It makes me think that time is indeed finite. That memory is fragile. But it does remind me that, if you wish hard enough and believe in yourself, dreams do indeed come true.
While my blog is about living with Cerebral Palsy, the memoir is about everything in my upbringing. I grew up in an abusive home and debated about whether or not to leave all of that out of the memoir. But after careful reasoning I realized that I couldn't. That bit of my past is as much a part of who I am as the Cerebral Palsy is. I can't tell one without the other.
Thus far it's been gruelling work. The more I write, the more I have been remembering. There's stuff coming back that I've had blocked for years: my first time on ice skates; the first book I ever read; a memory of my mother leaving and the smell of her perfume in the air; the first time I held my younger brother; the last time I saw my brothers and sister.
One of the things that came back was a memory of reading Lost Souls by Poppy Z. Brite. I remembered looking at the author bio and seeing that she was 25 years old. I remember being amazed by this; that someone could write wish such poise and vigour at such a young age. The novel enthralled me, enraptured me and I spent several years afterwards reading any vampire fiction I could get my hands on. But all of it paled in comparison to Lost Souls.
Years later, when I was finally becoming serious about my writing, I came across my beaten up copy of the book and read that author bio again. I resolved, half-heartedly, to have a book published before I was thirty. I figured 25 would be too young and not everyone can be lucky enough to publish a book at such a young age. With my background, I was anything but lucky.
But I figured that even Fate couldn't begrudge me the age of 30; even she wouldn't be that fickle.
After a few years, I forgot about that goal, that dream that had been set in the fires of the past. I wrote. First trying my hand at poetry, then Fan Fiction (I have a few Harry Potter stories I am particularly proud of) and then branching out into my own short stories and attempts at novels. All the while, that little seed of a dream was thriving in the back of my head and my imagination.
I was taking a shower this morning when, for no reason I can name, I thought of Lost Souls and that promise to myself. Sure, I have self-published work, but the goal set back then was to have one of my books published by someone else by the time I was thirty. Incredibly, that dream is about to come true.
It's rather humbling, having your past show you something that you had forgotten. It makes me think that time is indeed finite. That memory is fragile. But it does remind me that, if you wish hard enough and believe in yourself, dreams do indeed come true.
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