Writers are always in search of the right word, le mot juste. Words are two dimensional objects, flat symbols on a page, that writers use to express thought. A writer selects words that make a scene leap up from the page and come alive, three-dimensionally, in the mind of a reader or listener; words that create a character the reader can relate to; words that elicit an emotional response to make a reader think more deeply, laugh or cry. Words convey meaning and ultimately tell a story. It is the job of the writer to carefully choose words that activate imagination. Whether written or spoken, words are vehicles of communication; the transportation of ideas from one mind to another.

I learned about words from my father. He may not have been a writer, but he was a reader and he loved language. He was witty and enjoyed telling stories. When I think of him, I always think of books. He had a dictionary, along with stacks of books on the table and on the floor beside his chair at all times. They weren’t necessarily books of profound thought or philosophy, although many were. Often they were the paperbacks current in the 50s – a Mickey Spillane mystery, an Ian Fleming thriller. He read like most people breathe, constantly. He wasn’t limited to any particular genre or author. He just read.

We got our first TV in 1957 but he rarely watched it. Some of my favorite memories of my dad, however, were centered around one TV show, Omnibus.  It was a staple in our home every Sunday afternoon. I remember my father calling me into the living room and sitting beside me on the sofa to watch the live presentations devoted to the humanities. It was hosted by Alistair Cooke, a cultured, erudite British journalist. They recreated scenes from Shakespeare and other playwrights starring popular actors of the 50s such as Orson Wells, Helen Hayes, and Christopher Plummer. Cooke interviewed prominent public figures and historians. The shows provided analysis of opera with Brenda Lewis, a history of music with Leonard Bernstein, interpretations, and examples of dance by performers like Gene Kelly and Agnes de Mille. My dad made sure we watched that program together so he could explain to me, a six-year-old, the importance of the works highlighted. I don’t remember how many seasons the show ran but I know we watched it for several years.

I’m sure that was when my love of words was born. I know my love of Shakespeare’s plays came from those programs and my dad. He was a reader, so I was a reader; checking out books from our school library and devouring books my parents bought for me. I wrote my first novel at the age of seven on school lined paper with a #2 pencil. It was called the Girl Friends Mystery. I wish I still had it. It must have been a pip. From that time on I wrote in diaries, journals, and on odd bits of paper, notes with story ideas or comments on life.

When we moved to Tucson in 1997, I took a writing class and joined a group that wrote stories and poems that we shared with each other. Two years ago, I started writing a blog to share my reflections, stories, and poems, with a larger community. It has been so much fun. I love getting feedback. The comments of others always spark new thought and new ideas for writing – a continuum of word exchanges and the search for le mot juste.