I've been struggling with this question for months now, with regards to writing articles for StuntMom. Why would my humdrum existence matter to others? What could others gain from my daily struggles and yes, delights? A true writers block, black cloud, had taken hold of me. I'm still feeling it, but last Monday, the cloud started to pass.
On Monday, I started teaching a college prep reading and writing course. And one of the topics of discussion for this first class was "why write?" So we brainstormed ideas on the board. What we came up with was amazing. We write to make meaning out of experiences. To think more clearly. To persuade. To form new understandings. Writing about some of my day to day business does help me think more clearly. It's not just a frivolous waste of time (although let me tell you what I should be doing right now, instead of typing away: stripping windows, folding laundry, cleaning the cat box, etc...).
Last night, after supper, my husband and I sat at the table chatting. If we can get supper on the table by 5:30, then we finish the meal around six, giving us this somewhat peaceful half hour to chat. Teasing me, he praised me for my major work of the day: grocery shopping and making 3 stuffed snakes. He said it was too bad I didn't keep a journal, that would be one of the best, most exciting entries yet. Yup, that's all I did, all day. I spent almost $300 on groceries, half of my budget for the month. I then proceeded to make what I thought would be simple stuffed animals for my sons. It wasn't as quick as I had hoped.
After unpacking my groceries and putting everything away, it was time to go pick up Bea from kindergarten. And that was pretty much my day. Shocking how the day flies by. Seeing her brothers' snakes, she asked me if I would please please please make her a pink one. So up until dinner time (Daddy made supper last night), I was stuffing a pink snake.
A most unremarkable day. And I must say, writing about it has not given me new meaning or insights, this time around! Oh well.