Tag Archives: writing to heal

Why Blog?

Robin Botie of Ithaca, New York, photographs a green fern in the forest at Lime Hollow Nature Center in Cortland, NY.“Why do you do this blogging thing?” a friend once asked me. After tearing up a half dozen different dirges I wrote this week, I came back to this question. Why blog? Why would anyone want to blog?

In June of 2012, a year after my daughter died, I was writing a memoir. I created a website in order to show potential literary agents I could gather and grow an audience. Each week I wrote my heart out. Soon the benefits of writing became clear and my reasons for blogging changed. Now, four years later, I have not missed a single Monday morning blog.

Blogging adds structure to my life. I pretend it is work. I force myself to get out and do stuff so I can have things to write about, and I block out time at the end of every week to type up my report. Then, on Monday mornings, when everyone else goes off to their jobs, I sit at the computer and publish “my work.”

I blog because I love to work. And I love the pride that comes from producing something.

I blog because my daughter blogged. It is a connection to her, one of the ways she continues to shape my life.

Blogging is a weekly evaluation, a review of my current emotional state. It’s an opportunity to remember what made me smile that week, what hardship or fears I overcame.

I blog to know I’m not alone. To reach out. To hopefully offer comfort to someone else. To hear from people and make new connections in a world where I was once, simply and happily, my children’s mom. Like so many others, I’ve had to reinvent myself. “I’m a blogger and photographer,” I say now, when asked what I do.

Mostly, I blog to remind myself, and others, that even when we’ve lost what we thought we could not live without, there is yet more joy and beauty and love to sustain us. “I’m looking for joy,” I tell my friends, as I search for the highlight of my week. Something fresh, and green. Something that stands out and slaps my heart awake. Blogging keeps me on the lookout for people, events, and moments that make me feel alive. If all I find is sadness, I write another lament. But when I discover something joyful, however small, I celebrate it. I love the heck out of it. And then I share it with you in a blog.

Thank you for being out there and listening. What do you do to keep moving forward?

 

 

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Healing Words: Elevator Pitch

Robin Botie of Ithaca, New York, delivers her elevator speech in photoshopped elevator filled with peopleIn Fall to Fly: Life Follows Loss, Robin Botie, designer and dreamer in Ithaca, New York, brings her rebellious young adult daughter to life again as she hangs onto her through the wilds of cancer, crying, “Your cancer is my cancer,” and Marika blasts back, “Mom, get a life” – which is exactly what Botie must do on the other side of the journey.

This is the latest version of my elevator pitch for my book, my premise. It’s a one-sentence description that quickly conveys information about the characters, the conflict, stakes and setting. In this fast-paced world, there’s often only a minute to get a message out and get noticed. It’s supposed to be the first line of the query letter I send to get an agent.

“Fall to fly,” my daughter wrote in her poem. In her attempt to achieve health, she often had to undergo scary and painful treatments. Now it’s my turn to take the plunge. In order to get my manuscript published, I have to take the next intimidating steps.

So Tuesday I attended a Women TIES seminar in Syracuse. It was to be an easy first step. I’d simply sit in a crowd and listen to speeches about different paths to publishing. But as soon as I entered the conference room I realized I would have to introduce myself.

OMG. Who am I now? What would I say? Should I draw attention to the loss of my daughter? Could I simply say I’m from Ithaca and I’m writing a memoir? My pulse thundered in my head as I tried to think.

Suddenly I remembered I had an elevator speech.

“Hi. I’m Robin Botie from Ithaca. I’ve written a memoir about hanging onto my rebellious young adult daughter through the wilds of cancer, crying, ‘Your cancer is my cancer,’ as she blasts back, ‘Mom, get a life’ – which is exactly what I must do on the other side of the journey.”

My heart was still pounding as I sat down. It was the first time I used my premise. It wasn’t perfect and I’m sure I stuttered. But I got it out and my elevator is still climbing:
I write and Photoshop about finding life after loss because anything’s possible – even joy.

The power in putting the mess and the mission of my life into one line is exhilarating.

What is your elevator speech?

 

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