"I pray that out of his glorious riches He may strengthen you with power through His Spirit in your inner being," -Ephesians 3: 16
"As a prisoner for the Lord, then, I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling you have received."
-Ephesians 4:1
There are FOUR writers remaining on the infamous Wall of Writers, and their stories (or, the stories that I plan on sharing with you), are so precise and simple, they get to share this post.
It's fitting, really. Everything about these four Great Authors sort of wraps together in a confusing, wonderful sort of way: Austen, Brontë , Alcott, and Streatfield. Four sisters on the Wall, four sisters in my house. Four writers who each capture a particular part of ME that has paved the way towards my being the writer I am, and shall be.
First of all, Streatfield. Noel Streatfeild. She has been placed on The Wall because of her abilities to capture the essence of Sisterhood (As Alcott has done as well, but one at a time!). As I've already mentioned, I have three sisters of my own, and, as we were homeschooled in a small house filled with books, glitter, and a sprawling backyard (within the confinements of a creaky
fence, who was as much a part of our family as I was), they were my world. Them and my Mum, of course.
There is literally nothing better that I can imagine for a small girl growing up than having several other small girls to love and learn and grow with.
It was a perfectly wonderful childhood (though not all sunshine and daisies, and here I shall make a point of pointing out that this is exactly why my childhood was so excellent; what better way to prove you care for someone than a moment worthy of caring or reassuring or loving that person? But I digress). Streatfield, aside from having a prose everyone ought to study, offered me the tools at quite a young age to capture the energy and heartbreak and sublimity that can take place in a household. Often behind closed doors. That's the word for Streatfield: Sisterhood.
On a related theme, Louisa May Alcott is one of my secret weapons when it comes to: Family. Something that I absolutely adore is when you have a group of people, none of which are anything like the other, and they must create a sort of quirky family together. Sometimes (as in the case of Little Women) , Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy are sort of "forced" to be together (as they are sisters living in the same house), but sometimes it's a friendly group of strangers who, against all odds, end up together, fighting for the same cause, bringing each other up (occasionally driving one another
mad, think of the fabulous 1992 movie, Sneakers), and ultimately becoming an unconventional family, which are the most interesting and satisfying kinds to read about. Opposites don't just attract in books, they zoom at each other so quickly they end up colliding and bursting into a breathtaking display of fireworks. Never fill a book with flat characters, stuff them until bursting with character! That is why they are called 'characters!' And when you have a room filled with them, you have a worthy fictional family. That's what Louisa gave me: Family. Without one of these, you have a very lonely book, indeed.
Brontë (Charlotte Brontë), as those who are familiar with her (and her sister too, for that matter) are aware of, has a slightly darker splash of color in her ink. This in itself makes her writing a fascinating read, and can tell you a thing or two about how your own past can be a powerful weapon against the endlessly white pages that we writers are destined to fill. That's not what put Charlotte on the Wall, however. She earned her place by offering myself, and anyone who is willing to take it, the power of Ecclesiastes 3:1-8; knowing there is a time to kill, a time to heal, how much to have weeping until there is laughter, how to balance love and hate, silence and words, and so on. I was put in awe of her ability to say exactly what I was aching for her to say the first time I read Jane Eyre, as in this quote:
“I do not think, sir, you have any right to command me, merely because you are older than I, or because you have seen more of the world than I have; your claim to superiority depends on the use you have made of your time and experience.”
YES! How often have you wanted to give an evil character a good, honest telling-to? Satisfying! And what an excellent name for a villain: Mr. BROCKLEHURST. Who wants to bet Charlotte Brontë despised brussel sprouts, and delighted in shaming them through a character which Shmoop
describes as, "the hypocritical ogre." Here's another one:
“Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong! - I have as much soul as you, - and full as much heart! And if God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you!”
As a former plain and little, I thank Jane Eyre for finally speaking, in plain English, what I wished I could explain to the world. One more quote:
“I ask you to pass through life at my side—to be my second self, and best earthly companion.”
(Happy blissful siiiigh.) Here's what Brontë has given me: Honesty in my Writing.
Finally, Jane Austen.
Alright, so you already heard about the Sisterhood through Noel Streatfeild, and the essence of Family through Louisa May Alcott. Jane Austen has a mixture of both of these things, but there is another, which is what we'll attribute to her especially: The Character of the Writer Herself.
Come again?
Let me start with a synopsis; Yesterday, it was Summertime, and, at our house, it was HOT. Smeltering (which is a word I just made up that here means reallyreallyhot). Due to this, lethargy settled over me like a heavily, saturated cloud.
I know I shouldn't complain, I have friends in California (hello, if you're reading this!), and they hardly ever catch a break from the heat, especially in the Summertime. But I thrive in the cool, rainy afternoons, and crisp, delicious evenings. I love being able to wear my Sweater of Destiny-
...Your...Sweater of...
More on that later. Point was, laundry was stacking up in corners of the bedroom. Dust piled. Books were unread, writing was neglected. Mail was pushed aside. Letters from faraway friends (again, Californians, hello-hello!), left unanswered. All I really wanted to do was sit in front of a fan and watch endless episodes of Friends. Really.
When I don't feel like doing anything, especially WRITING...I know it's time to make a change.
I ended up thinking about Jane Austen's protagonists (while I sat in the rocking chair underneath the Wall of Writers, with all of them staring down at me in distaste), and about how strong, intelligent, selfless, adventurous, unconventional, graceful, ironic and clever they are. Think
Elizabeth Bennet or the Dashwoods, for example. I wanted to be a writer that could live up to writing characters such as these. That would start with making use of myself. So, the house was cleaned, some candles burned, homework read and written, THIS VERY BLOG POST, and I settled at the end of the day with a book, because reading is my way of learning, and, after all, as Austen herself once said:
“The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid.”
Thus concludes our Darling Wall of Writers, though they will still be around, even if they don't star in any blog posts! They will never, not in a million years, allow me to forget about their existences. That's what gives them such charm, and why we are such a wonderful, unorthodox family. Of sorts.
Be inspired, readers! Don't let a day slip by without giving it something worthwhile.
