A torrent of passion went through me when i first began writing A Nosegay of Violets. It covered events that happened to me that I buried deep inside, never to talk about to anyone. When pen hit paper, actually fingers hit computer keys, a flood resulted. The words and memories burst out of me. I was so caught up in releasing the hurt, anger, and wonder of my journey that i never rewrote the manuscript or had it professionally edited. I just put it out there like shedding an old skin.
I constantly encourage others to write their stories. Especially women who think they have not lived an exciting life. They don’t realize how others are touched by their experiences. Their thoughts and lessons learned in life may easily help another. Or maybe supply entertainment if the case may be. You are the only one who can tell your story as you lived it, giving reasons why you made the decisions you made. Sometimes it’s a relief to tell the secrets you hold close to your chest. Get rid of that heavy load you carry around. Lighten up. None of what you did will bring an end to the world.
Often writing your memoir will help heal old wounds. You come to terms with trauma. Through writing my story, i came to understand my mother as i never saw her before. It changed my whole perception of her and gave me a clearer picture.
Now i offer my A Nosegay of Violets revised edition, rewritten as a past tense narrative and updated it. I let the reader know at the beginning that the title refers to my always being the different one. It’s what i heard all my life and finally found my place in being different. And it was good.
