I am excited to be here today to bring you a guest post from Ivette Garcia Davila.
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I remember the day I fell in love
with writing. Well, I was in love with it already, but the day
I found out “we” were meant to be. I was in the second grade and I had to write
a paper on my favorite thing.
I remember the yellow #2 dancing
across a blue page, my little self trying to think of ways to describe my
obsession with that cold, creamy, gooey ball of goodness that always leaked
through the precipice at the end of the sugar cone and left me with sticky
fingers, no matter how fast I tried to suck it all up. As I wrote, I wondered
‘if this is homework, how come it feels so good?’ Imagine my delight when my
paper on ice cream was chosen to be displayed on the school’s bulletin board.
I recall standing in front of my
essay, crucified with thumbtacks and protected by a sliding plexiglass door. I
was quite proud in spite of the one typo the teacher caught (which still bugs
me to this day). In composing that essay, I had found the writer’s high and
I’ve been chasing it ever since.
Much later (and after spending most
of my teenage years writing bad poetry), I went to college and earned a
Bachelor’s in Creative Writing and a Master’s in Film. I then moved to Los
Angeles where I started writing screenplays instead of short stories and at
some point, moved to the Philippines to teach screenwriting. I thought I’d
found my jam. I loved writing scripts. Then, I got pregnant. And then, I had my
baby.
Some moms suffer from postpartum
depression. My baby gave me something far more menacing to me (cue in sinister
music): writer’s block. I couldn’t come up with any fictitious ideas or
characters. Every time I found the time to hit the keyboard, I could only
think of my current life as a mom to a nursing newborn. My hands were all
wrapped up in making swaddles for my infinitely beloved daughter. My brain was
stuck somewhere between the weird limbo sleepless nights and the never ending
breastfeeding (Why did no one tell me how much it would suck?!). My intellect
was occupied with constantly second-guessing my maternal abilities to raise a
child.
This “performance” anxiety led me to
start re-reading notes and links I had collected during my pregnancy in the
hopes of preparing myself for what was to come. I did more googling to find
cures to current afflictions which led me to cross reference the heck out of
everything. Always the nerd, I jotted my thoughts and findings. I also bought
books to help me deal with my new responsibilities but none felt like they
spoke to me, or if they did, they felt devoid of facts. I wanted to learn so
much about motherhood, but also have a good time while doing so.
Something clicked. I thought, maybe,
just maybe, I could write the book I would’ve liked to read before I had my
baby. And so I begun to shape those jumbled tidbits into coherent
paragraphs that started to breed into pages and pages. I couldn’t stop — I was
getting high! In fact, I started to get my fix every morning while my little
girl napped from 4:30 - 8:30am. People say: ‘sleep when she sleeps’. I say,
‘write when she naps’.
In three months, I had a very rough
draft. I spent the next three years flushing it out, re-writing,
editing, re-writing, reading, finding more topics I had to add to the book,
re-arranging them, researching to make sure I had all the facts straight, and
then re-writing some more. I was tweaking till I was told I could tweak no
more.
My second baby, “I’m The One
Pushing: A Practical and Renegade Guide to Choosing Your Own Motherhood
Adventure,” was born past its due date, but thankfully before my (real) baby
boy is born in October. We’ll see what writing he inspires. But till then, I’m
happy to report I still love ice cream as much as ever.
LINKS:
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Thanks for being here today!
Hi! Thanks so much for sharing my words with your readers. I'm most flattered to be here. You've got a great site.
ReplyDeleteThank you and thanks for being here!! :)
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