For thirteen years, Mary Shelley's novel was anonymous. When she finally put her name on it, she added a preface with advice on where creation comes from...
What a delightful post. I didn't know these things about Mary Shelly. I think we too often feel shame about our lives. Writing is a way of realizing that the things that happened to you weren't all your fault. Perhaps the most amazing thing I've found is how much your memories begin to change after you start to write about them. Some are even transformed from nightmares into dreams.
What I really love is what she did with her chaos. Instead of writing about it directly, she turned it into the monster. Misunderstood, reviled. Angry at the people who created her, and should have loved her, but abandoned her instead. The monster was the closest thing she could have written next to a biography. I should write more about that. It fascinates me. And you're right. The charge decreases when we look our chaos in the eye. :)
"Creation does not come from a void. It comes from chaos." I'd never thought of that, but now I see how true it is. There's always something there before the creation. Even God creates by bringing order to chaos. I did not know anything about Mary Shelly though I've enjoyed "Frankenstein," but only in the movies. Thanks for enlightening me.
I remember that you’ve written about Mary Shelly previously…the view on chaos being the impetus for creativity is new!
Mary Shelly was born to write. It was in her DNA, so to speak. As I’ve heard other writers (and artists in general) say, they couldn’t NOT write (or compose or whatever). Their craft is like their oxygen.
I love that you zeroed in on this. So many people come across as pretentious and it's not necessarily that they are. It's just that they are hiding what makes them most human. You write with such humanity it inspires me.
Beautiful! The monster is death, the family that abandoned her, the society that scorned her, and also herself, probably, if her psychology is anything like the people I know. And I include myself in that group.
What a delightful post. I didn't know these things about Mary Shelly. I think we too often feel shame about our lives. Writing is a way of realizing that the things that happened to you weren't all your fault. Perhaps the most amazing thing I've found is how much your memories begin to change after you start to write about them. Some are even transformed from nightmares into dreams.
What I really love is what she did with her chaos. Instead of writing about it directly, she turned it into the monster. Misunderstood, reviled. Angry at the people who created her, and should have loved her, but abandoned her instead. The monster was the closest thing she could have written next to a biography. I should write more about that. It fascinates me. And you're right. The charge decreases when we look our chaos in the eye. :)
This is a fantastic short article that I really enjoyed. I’ve learned a lot!
Thanks Theresa!
"Creation does not come from a void. It comes from chaos." I'd never thought of that, but now I see how true it is. There's always something there before the creation. Even God creates by bringing order to chaos. I did not know anything about Mary Shelly though I've enjoyed "Frankenstein," but only in the movies. Thanks for enlightening me.
Right? Everything starts somewhere. Glad you enjoyed this
Once again, you bring the past to pulsing, urgent life, Linda. Where creation comes from . . .
Thanks Jan!
Brought me to tears. How did she survive losing three babies? How could any woman survive such tragedy?
You've brought Mary to life with your stories.
Thank you.
Hugs,
Linda
There was always one more. The one that survived was her last. I guess as long as you have one child to care for, you have to survive.
So sad, Poor Mary. Its no comfort now, but she lives on.
This was so well written and captivating. Thank you!
I remember that you’ve written about Mary Shelly previously…the view on chaos being the impetus for creativity is new!
Mary Shelly was born to write. It was in her DNA, so to speak. As I’ve heard other writers (and artists in general) say, they couldn’t NOT write (or compose or whatever). Their craft is like their oxygen.
I love that you end this with a question. To hide our fallibility is to hide our humanness. The one thing that makes us connective.
I love that you zeroed in on this. So many people come across as pretentious and it's not necessarily that they are. It's just that they are hiding what makes them most human. You write with such humanity it inspires me.
As a teenager, Mary inspired me to push through the behaviours of my "peers", Ernest inspired me to write about how. Thankyou Linda, peace, Maurice
Beautiful! The monster is death, the family that abandoned her, the society that scorned her, and also herself, probably, if her psychology is anything like the people I know. And I include myself in that group.