Memories are funny things, the way they come to us in snatches of light in the dark like time travel in the flash of a strobe light. But what to do with them?
Such a great post, thank you. The Ted Hughes manipulation of Sylvia Plath´s work is shocking. As an editor I am fully committed to supporting the writer´s voice and aims. Have shared this post with my partner who is a poet and writer and whose work I would not tamper with.
I found about his abomination much later. It was horrifying to realize that the man at the base of much of her depression, and frustrated future was in his hands
Then he abused her one more time - it took two years for his cruel hand to taint her memory. A taint he was quite familiar with as it was merely the culmination of what else he had done to her psyche
I wish Sylvia Plath had survived to fight. Her ex must have made so much money and enjoyed so many pats on the head from mining her trauma. But at least her daughter, Frieda, finally restored her poems and her vision with the poem "Stings":
"It is almost over.
I am in control.
Here is my honey-machine,
It will work without thinking,
Opening, in spring, like an industrious virgin"
And the ending you noted, in "Wintering": “The bees are flying. They taste the spring.”
This is absolutely beautiful writing (as usual with your pieces). But it also speaks directly to the heart of everything I do in my work with/for writers around writing fiction to heal. Every single writer you pointed out was, in essence, writing to heal even if they didn't know it, or didn't understand that's what they were doing. I think that's essentially what we're all trying to do when we sit at the page... heal some small part of us that is aching to know a truth.
I’m fascinated by confessional speaking and writing. There’s such a fine line between sharing for the greater good, which always seems to be painful and the subject matter oblique; and tabloid-style gut-spillage. The surge in it recent years reflects the obsession of the ‘me’ culture. People with real harrowing lives tend to keep their hearts and mouths guarded. That said, I write to heal almost daily. It’s what you do with it that matters.
Omg, Lorna, yes. I love that you pointed out the difference between writing about pain and tabloid style gut spillage and what a great term. Do you remember the site xoJane? It's taken down now but wow there was a lot of it there.
I always love the depth with which you present an idea. This one really hit home for me. I would agree that the stories you pointed to often involved a trauma and ultimately someone looking for honest acceptance and love. I subscribe to the belief that’s what we are all here for. Thank you for another thoughtful piece.
Aww, Jen, what a nice thing to say and thank you. I read a little story once that said we are all hedgehogs and sometimes we hurt each other on purpose and sometimes it's by accident but we're all just trying to find some balance between getting close to each other and not getting hurt more than we can bear. That hit me in the feels :)
I wish, Linda, you could have listened in on the Crow's Feet weekly podcast team meeting, in which your name came up and was followed by a tsunami of praise and appreciation for your work. Just want you to know that.
Omg Jan, I had no idea. What a nice thing to know. I've never written for Crow's feet but clearly there are people who know me there. I should go look. Gosh, now I wish I'd been a fly on the wall lol.
It might have been Flannery O'Connor (I forget exactly who) that said surviving past the second grade leaves a person with enough life experience to write stories for the rest of their days.
It's the one who write that often reveal the hidden person inside all of us.
Omg, how fitting is that. And you're right, it was Flannery O'Connor, in Mystery and Manners: Occasional Prose. And you're so right. Everyone who writes leaves themselves all over their words
I took a a break from writing about feeling small and powerless against my stepmother when I was a teen and found this waiting in my inbox. Hoo boy the tears from "she finally learned how to feel loved." <--- This is all I want. Beautifully written.
Right? That's it exactly Diane. It really does.
Thank you, Emily. :)
Most of us will take our deepest secrets to the grave.
Writers usually leave a hint or two behind, though.
First sentence made me laugh. You're not kidding. On both actually
Not kidding at all!!
Yes. Absolutely.
Such a great post, thank you. The Ted Hughes manipulation of Sylvia Plath´s work is shocking. As an editor I am fully committed to supporting the writer´s voice and aims. Have shared this post with my partner who is a poet and writer and whose work I would not tamper with.
Thanks, Sarah. Sometimes I wonder if he did it knowing it would sell
Mmm it is a vexed question!
That's exactly what I was thinking. It's a shame that people feel as if the truth itself won't sell — that we have to sex it up.
I found about his abomination much later. It was horrifying to realize that the man at the base of much of her depression, and frustrated future was in his hands
Then he abused her one more time - it took two years for his cruel hand to taint her memory. A taint he was quite familiar with as it was merely the culmination of what else he had done to her psyche
Beautiful article. Beautiful writing. Thank you.
Thank you Jonathon
So much beauty and pain here.
I wish Sylvia Plath had survived to fight. Her ex must have made so much money and enjoyed so many pats on the head from mining her trauma. But at least her daughter, Frieda, finally restored her poems and her vision with the poem "Stings":
"It is almost over.
I am in control.
Here is my honey-machine,
It will work without thinking,
Opening, in spring, like an industrious virgin"
And the ending you noted, in "Wintering": “The bees are flying. They taste the spring.”
An important article by Leza Cantoral on this: https://litreactor.com/columns/the-resurrection-of-sylvia-plaths-ariel
Thanks, as always, for opening my eyes and heart.
Oh thank you so much for that link Melissa, heading over to read it
This is absolutely beautiful writing (as usual with your pieces). But it also speaks directly to the heart of everything I do in my work with/for writers around writing fiction to heal. Every single writer you pointed out was, in essence, writing to heal even if they didn't know it, or didn't understand that's what they were doing. I think that's essentially what we're all trying to do when we sit at the page... heal some small part of us that is aching to know a truth.
Right, Jade? I so agree. Who of us gets out unscathed? None, I think. And I think we're all writing to heal some small part of us
Really illuminating, thanks, Linda.
Thanks, Wendy
Very compelling. Excellent writing.
Thanks, Carol
Awesome read. Inspirarional raging by well loved writers and poets.
Right? Some of them, wow. Thanks MColleen :)
I’m fascinated by confessional speaking and writing. There’s such a fine line between sharing for the greater good, which always seems to be painful and the subject matter oblique; and tabloid-style gut-spillage. The surge in it recent years reflects the obsession of the ‘me’ culture. People with real harrowing lives tend to keep their hearts and mouths guarded. That said, I write to heal almost daily. It’s what you do with it that matters.
Omg, Lorna, yes. I love that you pointed out the difference between writing about pain and tabloid style gut spillage and what a great term. Do you remember the site xoJane? It's taken down now but wow there was a lot of it there.
Ive heard of it but never visited the site. It’s like the sanctity of AA. Sharing pain needs to be respected and held sacred.
I always love the depth with which you present an idea. This one really hit home for me. I would agree that the stories you pointed to often involved a trauma and ultimately someone looking for honest acceptance and love. I subscribe to the belief that’s what we are all here for. Thank you for another thoughtful piece.
Aww, Jen, what a nice thing to say and thank you. I read a little story once that said we are all hedgehogs and sometimes we hurt each other on purpose and sometimes it's by accident but we're all just trying to find some balance between getting close to each other and not getting hurt more than we can bear. That hit me in the feels :)
Such a perfect description of daily life.
I wish, Linda, you could have listened in on the Crow's Feet weekly podcast team meeting, in which your name came up and was followed by a tsunami of praise and appreciation for your work. Just want you to know that.
Omg Jan, I had no idea. What a nice thing to know. I've never written for Crow's feet but clearly there are people who know me there. I should go look. Gosh, now I wish I'd been a fly on the wall lol.
It might have been Flannery O'Connor (I forget exactly who) that said surviving past the second grade leaves a person with enough life experience to write stories for the rest of their days.
It's the one who write that often reveal the hidden person inside all of us.
Omg, how fitting is that. And you're right, it was Flannery O'Connor, in Mystery and Manners: Occasional Prose. And you're so right. Everyone who writes leaves themselves all over their words
I took a a break from writing about feeling small and powerless against my stepmother when I was a teen and found this waiting in my inbox. Hoo boy the tears from "she finally learned how to feel loved." <--- This is all I want. Beautifully written.
Omg, Angela, that undid me, too. And thank you xo
Beautiful article. I'm going to share this with my Writing Circle. Thank you.
Thank you so much, Denise. I really appreciate that xo